Jeff Stone_Five Ancestors 05

by Eagle

  Ying gestured to his face. “I am surprised you recognized me.”

  WanSow shook her head. “If I were blindfolded, I would know who you are. Your father's chi is strong in you.”

  Ying felt another chill run down his spine. He didn't reply.

  “How did you find me?” WanSow asked.

  “It's a long story,” Ying said.

  “Why have you come? You don't seem particularly happy to see me again.”

  “I came here for answers.”

  WanSow closed her eyes. “I may not have the answers you seek. Or, worse, you may not like the answers you hear.”

  “I'll take my chances.”

  WanSow opened her eyes. Ying thought he saw a glimmer of challenge in them.

  “So, you're a risk taker?” she asked.

  “I suppose I am,” Ying replied. “Why?”

  “Because if you are, you will be willing to take part in a simple exercise with me. If you accomplish the task, I will answer all of your questions. However, if you fail, you will stay and work with me until you can complete the task. Agreed?”

  “No, I need more details,” Ying said. “What is the task? And what is this work you are talking about if I fail? I must be back in Hangzhou in a few days.”

  WanSow flicked a wisp of long black hair out of her eyes. “If you fail, the work is a series of mental and physical drills to help you further develop and focus your chi. As for the task, all you have to do is attack me and push me over.”

  “What?”

  “The exercises I practice build strength from the inside out. They help a person remain grounded on many levels. You would benefit from the training. I can tell.”

  Ying's eyes narrowed. “Why would I want to attack you?”

  “Because I am challenging you. Are you afraid?”

  Ying frowned. “No. What techniques can I use?”

  “Any technique you may know.”

  Ying nodded. “Let's get this over with, then.” He put his hands out. “How do we begin?”

  “You decide. I'm just going to stand here.”

  Ying shrugged. He formed eagle-claw fists with both hands and walked up to his mother.

  WanSow dropped the blade she had been holding and sank into a deep horse stance. She raised her hands to chest height.

  Ying thrust both his fists out at WanSow's shoulders. It wasn't a complicated attack. He expected his mother to shift sideways, but she didn't. Instead, she leaned backward, absorbing Ying's force, and latched on to his wrists with her hands.

  Ying found himself being pulled off balance. He twisted to one side, expecting to draw away, but his mother twisted with him. His balance was now really off center, and just as Ying thought he might right himself, WanSow jerked his wrists hard in the direction he was leaning. She let go, and Ying tumbled to the ground.

  WanSow straightened, her feet still firmly rooted to the ground. She took a few steps backward and winked at him.

  Ying stood and scowled. He formed two eagle-claw fists again and ran straight at his mother. Again, she sank into a deep horse stance, raising her hands chest-high.

  A moment before impact, Ying leaped into the air. He pulled his legs back and fired them out at Wan-Sow's head.

  WanSow ducked.

  As Ying sailed over his mother's head, she reached up and grabbed the seat of his black silk pants. She latched on tight and twisted in the direction of Ying's momentum, pulling her body powerfully down toward the earth. Ying's trajectory changed and he found himself slammed to the ground, backside-first.

  Ying groaned and turned to see WanSow's feet still rooted to the earth. She smiled at him. “How many chances do I get? I could do this all day.”

  Ying stood and dusted himself off. “Well, I can't.”

  “Are you planning to leave? Or are you going to keep your end of the deal and train with me?”

  Ying frowned. “I'm going to keep my end of the deal, at least until I have to leave. Just make sure you keep your end.”

  “Of course,” WanSow replied. “Feel free to try and accomplish your task anytime, any day. It is an important exercise in control to be ready at any given moment.”

  “I'll remember that,” Ying said. “I should warn you, though, I am a very quick study.”

  “We shall see,” WanSow said with a smirk. She looked up at the sky. “It will be dark soon. Come into the house. I suggest you get some rest. First thing tomorrow, your training begins.”

  Ying woke early the next day, well before sunrise. He wanted some time alone before he began his training with his mother at daybreak. He put on his silk robe and pants but left his feet bare.

  Ying slipped out of the house onto the cool, dew-drenched grass. A chill raced from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, making his scalp tingle. He savored it. It made him feel alive.

  Ying rounded the back corner of the house and stopped dead in his tracks. Someone was outside, standing still as a statue. At least, that's what he thought at first. He soon realized that the person was actually moving incredibly slow. It was his mother.

  Ying watched, hypnotized by how slowly she was moving. Her belly—not her chest—rose and fell steadily with each breath, much like the elderly people he had seen along the canal. Her movements were light and flowing, yet somehow heavy and dense at the same time. Like a rain cloud.

  Ying didn't know how long he stood watching her, but by the time his mother had finished, the sun was beginning to rise. She turned to him, seemingly in a trance. Then she blinked a few times, and Ying saw consciousness return to her eyes.

  “Oh, good morning, Ying,” WanSow said in a gentle voice. “I didn't see you there.”

  “I've been here quite some time,” he replied.

  “I was meditating,” WanSow said. “That's what Tai Chi Chuan is, moving meditation.”

  “That's what you're going to teach me, Tai Chi ?” Ying asked. “Is that what you used against me yesterday?”

  WanSow nodded.

  “I thought Tai Chi was a collection of movements and breathing exercises for old people.”

  “It is internal and external exercise for anyone of any age. Elderly individuals particularly enjoy it because a person doesn't have to be big and strong or young and flexible to do it. It also happens to be a very effective fighting art. Tai Chi Chuan, or Tai Chi for short, is many things. Are you ready to begin?”

  “Shouldn't we eat breakfast first?”

  “No. Tai Chi is best done the moment you wake up.

  It gives you energy for the entire day. We will start with a breathing exercise.”

  “I already know how to breathe,” Ying said.

  WanSow frowned. “This is serious. Breathing is the key to controlling and increasing your chi.”

  “If you say so,” Ying said, rolling his eyes. “Teach me how to breathe. Maybe after that, you can teach me how to walk.”

  “Walking comes later,” WanSow said. “After breathing, I will teach you how to stand. Now, do as I do … ”

  Four hours later, Ying was still practicing just one breathing technique. He'd never been so bored in his life. They took a break for lunch, then spent the entire afternoon on just one standing posture. Ying was ready to pull his hair out.

  By evening, Ying was certain he was going to lose his mind. He didn't have time for all this monotony. Tonglong was probably still on their tail, and Ying wasn't any closer to finding the treasure. This house still seemed like a logical place to hide it, so during his few training breaks he had poked around as much as possible, looking for clues. He found no sign of the treasure at all.

  Ying went to bed early that night, more out of frustration than fatigue. He needed a plan to end this nonsense. He glanced around the room, looking for something that could help him. At the foot of the bed was an object that might just be his ticket out. It was a small trunk that stood about knee-high. That could work.

  Ying made a mental note to stay in bed and pretend to oversleep so that his
mother would come in and wake him. If he was lucky, by this time tomorrow he would be back in Hangzhou, his arms full of treasure.

  “T here it is!” Charles announced. Starboard side. The famous apothecary. Prepare to dock.”

  Malao looked to his left. “Where? I don't see it.”

  Charles shook his head. “How many times do I have to tell you, Malao? Starboard means ‘right.’ ”

  “Oh,” Malao said.

  Fu grabbed a rope and walked to the starboard side. “That building is huge. It's a medicine store?”

  “Yes,” Charles said. “An apothecary. I've never seen another one even close to this size. PawPaw was right—I'm sure Hok wouldn't be able to resist it.”

  “Where do we dock?” Malao asked.

  “Wherever we can find a space,” Charles replied. “There,” he said, pointing to a small slip a few hundred paces upstream. “That will do nicely. All hands on deck!”

  Fu uncoiled a section of his rope near the bow, and Malao hurried to do the same at the stern. Charles fought back a grin. Fu and Malao might have been landlubbers, but they were becoming surprisingly good sailors. Fu was incredibly strong and could lift things even Charles couldn't manage, while Malao was as happy as a clam up in the rigging, often swinging around at perilous heights for fun. Thanks to them, Charles was able to make it down the coast and to Hangzhou in record time.

  Charles steered his boat into the slip and jumped ashore. Fu tossed him a line, and Charles tied off the bow. Malao threw his rope, and Charles tied off the stern. He motioned for Fu and Malao to come ashore, too.

  Charles stepped away from the dock's edge and fought back another grin. They had been at sea almost two weeks without setting foot on dry land. It would be amusing to see what happened when Fu's and Malao's legs hit solid ground.

  Malao leaped onto the dock first, landing in a low crouch. As soon as he stood up, he began to weave like a drunkard. He took a tentative step forward, then toppled over, giggling.

  “What's gotten into you?” Fu grumbled from the boat.

  Malao looked at him and kept giggling.

  Fu rolled his eyes and climbed ashore. As he straightened, Fu started to weave back and forth, too, his legs wobbling.

  “What the—” Fu began to say.

  “Sea legs,” Charles said. “It will take a few hours for you to get used to solid ground again. By tomorrow morning, you'll be back to your old self.”

  Fu stepped forward hesitantly and growled, “I don't like this.”

  Malao giggled some more and stood. He took several steps forward, wobbling exaggeratedly. “I do,” he said.

  “It figures,” Fu replied.

  “That's enough fun for now,” Charles said. “Let's go inside.”

  Fu sniffed the air. “Wait, I smell chicken cooking. I hope the apothecary has a food stand.”

  Charles shook his head. He reached into the pouch tied to his sash and handed Fu a few coins, then pointed upstream. “I believe the food stand is that way. It's not too far. Get whatever you'd like, and bring me something, too. Fish balls on a stick, if they have some.”

  Malao made a sour face. “Fish balls?”

  Charles sighed. “Balls of fish meat, marinated in soy sauce and cooked on a grill. They are quite tasty. You should try some.” He pointed to the apothecary. “I'm going in there to see if I can learn any news about Hok. Meet me inside.”

  “Okay,” Malao said. He walked away with Fu at his side, both of them weaving like flags in the wind.

  Charles headed for the apothecary. He stepped through a pair of enormous red doors, and his senses were immediately assaulted by a complex combination of sights, sounds, and smells. The air was thick with a spiced perfume made from a thousand different herbs that had been dried, ground, and mixed into a hundred thousand combinations. He heard people talking loudly in different languages, discussing treatments for everything from sour stomachs to head aches to bed-wetting. Barrels and other containers of every size and color were stacked to the ceiling, forming narrow walkways that meandered through the building like tracks left by a dizzy snake. It was almost overwhelming.

  Charles got his bearings and headed into the maze of aisles in search of a shopkeeper. He tried his best to remember the way back to the front door.

  After innumerable twists and turns, Charles spotted someone who might be in charge. He was an older man with thinning gray hair, and he stood behind the longest counter Charles had ever seen. The man was gingerly taking small terra-cotta bottles out from under the counter and placing them on the counter-top for a customer to inspect.

  Charles watched the customer carefully pull a stopper out of one of the bottles and adjust an extraor dinarily long ponytail braid. Charles stared at the man's clothes. He was wearing a soldier's uniform. It was Tonglong.

  Charles turned to hurry away when he heard Tonglong speak. Charles only caught one word, but it was enough to make him start creeping back toward Tonglong to see if he could hear more. That word was “Hok.”

  “So, you haven't seen a pale girl with brown hair, or a teenage boy with his face carved to resemble a dragon?” Tonglong asked the older man.

  The man, who Charles was now certain was the shopkeeper, shook his head. “No, sir.”

  “You will send someone for me if you do see either of them, right?” Tonglong asked.

  “Immediately,” the shopkeeper said. “Will you be in Hangzhou long?”

  “As long as it takes to find them.”

  “If you don't mind my asking, a man of your rank has traveled all this way to find two children?”

  “They are special children,” Tonglong said. “They have something I want. So, it seems, do you.” He gestured to the numerous bottles on the counter. “I will take them all.”

  Charles watched the shopkeeper's eyes widen. “What on earth could you possibly do with so much snake venom?”

  Tonglong chuckled. “It's not for me. It's a gift. For my mother. She couldn't make the trip here with me, so I thought I might bring her back a little something.”

  “Snake venom?” the shopkeeper asked.

  “My mother has an interesting … hobby,” Tonglong said with a grin. “Wrap these up for me.”

  “Oh, I'm sorry,” the shopkeeper said. “You will have to carry these bottles individually. Packaging them is too risky. The stoppers could pop out or the bottles could break. I've seen these things happen before with snake venom. People have lost their lives. I am sorry.”

  “I will carry them individually then,” Tonglong said. “I plan to return tomorrow to do some more shopping. I will pay you then.”

  “As you wish, General,” the shopkeeper said.

  Charles had hoped to hear more about what Tonglong was up to, but it seemed his conversation with the shopkeeper was drawing to a close. It was time to leave.

  As Tonglong began to carefully pick up the small bottles, Charles headed for the door. He'd taken three steps when he heard Tonglong shout, “Hey, you! Round Eye! Step over here.”

  Charles began to run. He raced back through the maze, knocking items and customers to the floor. Tong long called out, “To the front door, men! There is a young round eye coming your way. Stop him!”

  Charles reached the front door without seeing a single soldier. He grinned and rushed out of the doorway, directly into the arms of two very large men. Soldiers.

  Charles writhed and twisted and kicked, but it was no use. He soon gave up. Tonglong came out with his arms full of snake-venom bottles. “Take him to the barracks,” Tonglong said. “I will go on ahead. As you can imagine, the last thing I want to do is drop one of these on myself—or on you.”

  “Yes, sir!” the soldiers said in unison.

  Tonglong nodded to them and walked away. Charles watched, dejected, as Tonglong hurried along the riverbank, then turned away from the water and headed up a narrow side street.

  “Let's go,” one of the soldiers said, and both burly men began to drag Charles in the same dir
ection Tonglong had gone. Charles looked back at the apothe cary's entrance and saw people streaming out as fast as their legs would carry them. They were obviously worried about the soldiers, too.

  Charles glanced upstream, and his heart leaped. Fu and Malao were strolling along the riverfront on wobbly legs, both intently focused on consuming their dinners.

  “Fu! Malao!” Charles shouted. “Help!”

  Fu and Malao looked up and came running. Malao held a skewer of fish balls in each hand, while Fu held the remains of a chicken carcass. Fu roared and hurled the carcass at the head of the soldier to Charles’ right. The man ducked forward and Charles lifted his knee, driving it hard into the soldier's face.

  The soldier howled and straightened, and Fu rushed forward, slamming a meaty fist into the man's Adam's apple. The man choked, and Fu hit him again on the side of the neck with his forearm. The soldier went down.

  Malao stopped in front of the second soldier and shrieked loudly. He whipped the skewers forward with a quick snap of his wrists, flinging fish balls into the man's face. The soldier closed his eyes for a moment, and Malao dropped low, jamming the pointed bamboo skewers into the man's thighs.

  The soldier screamed and his legs buckled, and Charles broke free. As the man teetered forward, Charles threw an uppercut into his jaw. The soldier's head rocked back and he toppled to the ground, unconscious.

  Charles looked around for Tonglong. He wasn't there. He must not have heard the ruckus.

  “Let's get out of here!” Malao said.

  Charles nodded. “Follow me.” He took a step toward his sloop and heard a shrill whistle behind him. It sounded like a large bird.

  Fu released a questioning growl. “Hok?”

  Charles snapped his head around. Hok was standing alone in the apothecary doorway.

  “Hok! Hok! Hok!” Malao squealed in a hushed tone. He raced toward her.

  “In here,” Hok said.

  Charles and Fu ran after Malao, and all three of them followed Hok through the apothecary entrance, into the maze of aisles. There wasn't a single customer left in the store. They made it to a back storage room and Hok led them inside. She gestured for them to sit at a large table covered with candles, then locked the door behind them.