by Derwin Mak
“I do not doubt it, Admiral,” Kou Shen said. “But while there remains a chance to recover the Hetu, we must seek it.”
“I am honored that you have chosen me for this task, but I am a mere engineer,” I said. “I can fix trebuchets and paddle wheels or calculate the trajectory of a bomb, but catching a murderer ...”
“I see in you a clever man, Wu Fan,” Kou Shen said. “You will—you must—use those wits for the sake of the country.”
“My apologies, but I, the lowest general, must see to the remaining battle preparations for morning,” Admiral Zhang said, bowing. “I leave this matter in your capable hands.” He departed, leaving me alone with Kou Shen.
Kou Shen gestured at a stubby stool. After I politely declined, he took the seat himself. “I am one of many shen in the service of the Spirit General,” he said. “For the sake of our people, Wu Fan, you must allow one such spirit to enter you.”
There were rumors of such spirits said to serve the Spirit General Yue Fei, returning with him from beyond the grave to protect the Song Dynasty.
Yue Fei’s legend told of his mother, who had tattooed the words utmost loyalty serve country on her son’s back to remind him of his patriotic duty. That gift of needled words did not save the general nineteen years ago, when he had been falsely accused by the Prime Minister of treason and executed. But it was said that one of Yue Fei’s disciples had taken the same mark of loyalty to honor him and had willingly given possession of his body to his master’s ghost, whose work in this world remained unfinished. To this day, the Spirit General kept command of the armies of the Southern Song.
“When Yue Fei died, he discovered that his spirit could leap from body to body, if they bore the same tattooed chengyu as his,” Kou Shen continued. “But the Spirit General is not the only spirit bound to words on skin, though he is the greatest among us. We call him Xin Shen, spirit of the word heart.”
I understood. Heart appears in the word for loyalty.
“Then you are the spirit of the word mouth?” The man before me was merely a vessel for Kou Shen. Judging by Scar-Lips’ age, he would have borne the same chengyu as Yue Fei. “Mouth is part of the character for country!”
Kou Shen nodded.
My eyes widened. “Then the character of the hound ... I am to host its spirit?”
“Aye. We need the nose of Quan Shen, spirit of the hound, to identify and capture the thief,” Kou Shen said.
I was at a loss for words. It would be a legendary sacrifice to serve a spirit. After all, when Yue Fei had taken his disciple’s body, he had been able to expose the Prime Minister as a Jin spy and rally the Song army. Under his banner, our brethren won back the lands south of the Yellow River. But what had happened to the disciple who had given his body to Yue Fei?
Sweat beaded on my brow. Could I endure that loss of freedom? “What happens to me? Do I die?”
“No,” Kou Shen assured me. “While Quan Shen controls your body, you still sense and observe, and your thoughts remain your own. We spirits must obey certain laws.
“One, a spirit only senses the strength, direction, and distance of the summons, but does not hear the chengyu used to conjure him. That secret is your hold over him.
“Two, a spirit is a guest. Only you may invite him in, but once he accepts, only you may release him—so long as your chengyu remains secret from him.
“Three, if the spirit discovers your chengyu and speaks it aloud, the body that hears it must acknowledge the spirit as its master. Thereafter, he may come and leave of his own accord.”
Then the sooner we found the thief, the sooner I could send this Quan Shen away. “But for all we know, the thief has already thrown Hetu back into the Yellow River! ”
Kou Shen disagreed. “Whoever stole it must know its true worth. Whether he craves wealth or power, he is a fool if he does not approach the Jin.”
“I do not have the courage for this,” I admitted.
“You have. Look where you are: serving in a fleet fighting for your country, ready to die! Why fear a few hours’ loan of your body? Study your doubts and cast them aside, soldier.”
I gazed into the lantern flame and meditated on my fear. To let an unknown spirit ride my skin and do things with my body without my permission—that scared me witless. But my father and uncles had given their lives fighting the Jurchen barbarians from the north, who stole our lands and dared call themselves a golden dynasty. How could I be afraid to surrender my body for one night, when I had already pledged it to my people?
“Please accept this apology from your humble servant. You are right—it is my duty and honor to serve.”
Kou Shen clasped my shoulder. “Good.”
But I had to ask one thing that still disturbed me. “You set that riddle to find an intelligent man. Why? Is there something I should know about this spirit of the hound?”
“Ah, you are astute, Wu Fan. Quan Shen is the only spirit who can track the Hetu, but he has drunk too deep from the well of power. There is a risk in that, for us spirits. We may invoke the magic rooted in the nature of our word at the cost of losing a part of our humanity. For example, the spirit of wine is an inveterate drunk; the spirit of the wind the embodiment of wanderlust; and even I talk too much. As for Quan Shen, he thinks and reacts like a hound and forgets that sometimes he must think before he acts. You must be his better judgment. Keep him focused on his mission.”
“But what do I do once I find the thief?”
“Leave him to me,” Kou Shen said, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword.
“How do I summon him?”
“Prayer. Need. Both. Speak your chengyu and wish for a spirit’s aid,” he explained.
I frowned. “But will Quan Shen come?”
“He dwells for now in a soldier of Kaifeng. I have a host there chanting chengyu, awaiting my return. I will convince Quan Shen to come to you. Are you ready?”
“I am,” I replied.
“Good. I will return to this body soon,” Kou Shen said.
He yawned, letting his head and shoulders slump. When he raised his eyes to meet mine again, he laughed softly and flexed his fingers.
“Kou Shen?” I asked.
“He’s gone, for the moment. My name’s Ren Chun,” he said.
“It is an honor, Ren Chun,” I replied. “If I might ask, what is it like to serve Kou Shen?”
Ren Chun stroked his scar idly as he searched for the right words. “Imagine a dragon dance where you’re the dragon, rippling and twisting in glory. Only you’re at the mercy of the troupe who carries you, dancing to their whim. You watch yourself ‘chasing the pearl’ or ‘circling the pillar’, but the beauty-in-motion isn’t yours.”
“I see. Who is this Kou Shen, in truth?” I asked.
“Kou Shen’s the voice of the Spirit General. Every squadron has a mouthpiece like me, waiting and praying at the appointed hours for Spirit General to possess him. He bears messages from far and wide, giving our army a formidable advantage over the Jin. When he possesses me, I wait and listen while he observes the fleet or dines with officers. Whoever you serve, friend, you’ll need patience.”
“What I have serves me well enough,” I answered.
Ren Chun smiled. “If you say so. Come, let’s begin.” He kicked away the stool, settled into a lotus position and closed his eyes.
I imitated him and intoned my chengyu, over and over in a quaking voice. I formed the character of hound in my mind’s eye. Come, Quan Shen. Your country has need of you, and I open my heart to you. Come.
On the twelfth iteration, the spirit entered me.
My voice—no, our voice—ceased chanting, and our eyes opened of their own accord. Thousands of new scents overwhelmed our sense of smell, each with a different shade and strength.
When I had been the sole occupant of my body, my thoughts centered behind my eyes, but that place was no longer the throne of my reason. A phantom hound with boundless energy took that seat from me, and my sense of self
scattered to the edges like fleas on his hide.
Against my will, we sprang to our feet. Our head strained to see our back, but the chengyu tattoo remained out of sight. Growling, we spun in place, a dog chasing his own tail.
I tried to communicate with Quan Shen, but my mouth did not even try to shape my intended words. I tried manifesting my thoughts instead.
Honorable Quan Shen, please cease! You will only make us ill!
Quan Shen ignored me and laughed, spinning us faster and faster. “This could amuse me all night,” he said in my voice.
A firm hand gripped our shoulder, stopping Quan Shen’s mad twirling. “Quan Shen! Don’t bring disgrace to us shen with these antics. Behave.”
Quan Shen sneered. “I was enjoying that, Big Mouth.”
“Show proper respect and call me Kou Shen. You waste time we don’t have. Work with Wu Fan to find the Hetu.”
“Work with this pup?” Quan Shen said. We sniffed our armpit. The stink was our own, but laced with old tea and sour plum. “He reeks of fear and doubt.”
Pup? I considered my words to Quan Shen, and I knew where I had gone wrong. I had deferred to him when I should have acted like pack leader.
Know your place, Quan Shen. I am no pup, I said. I conjured you to serve the good of the country. There is no place for your selfish behavior among us.
“So? What if I refuse?” he said, testing me.
I will cast you out of this body, and Kou Shen and I will spread word of your shame throughout the land. Thereafter, only vagabonds would dare take the mark of the hound, much less pray to you. It is your choice: become an outcast, or join us and fight for a victory feast. Which will it be?
Our stomach grumbled, and our lips parted to bare our teeth. “I’m starving now!” Quan Shen complained.
Soon.
“Very well. What do you need?”
The scent of a killer, and the whereabouts of the Hetu. I directed him toward the chart room. Kou Shen observed us from the doorway.
Our nose, enchanted by hound magic, identified an abundance of smells. Quan Shen isolated them one by one.
“Learn these scents, pup. Three deaths, one after the other.” We crouched next to the closest body, the guardsman. “This one died first. Never had time to sweat surprise.”
We switched to a crisp, spicy odor.
“Skinny one was second. A quick death—a scent of surprise without the bouquet of fear.” We tilted our head towards the third and last body. “Smell it on him?”
The scent of old tea.
“Sure, call it that.”
But which is the killer’s scent? I asked.
We tested a succession of smells, but Quan Shen discarded them quickly. “Bland fish from supper. Month-old ink. Balm for a skin disease on that one.” We sniffed again. “Ah. An odd smell.”
It was a smoky, earthy, scent of grass.
I knew it. Mugwort?
“Close. Smoke from its burning,” Quan Shen said.
Moxibustion? I suggested. Some healers burned mugwort on patients’ skins to improve blood flow. Tell Kou Shen.
We turned toward Kou Shen. “Whoever killed them likely had a moxibustion treatment within the day,” Quan Shen reported.
Kou Shen brushed his thumb lightly against his scar as he considered the clue. “I know two healers in the fleet who do moxibustion. They might remember who they treated. I’ll ask Admiral Zhang to find them. Is the scent strong enough to track?”
“No, but the Hetu’s fragrance is enough,” Quan Shen replied. “Let me memorize it.”
We bit and tore the silk off the table, gathered it in our hands and inhaled deeply. The blend of smells— horsehide, watered wine, and salted carp—defied my expectations. So delicate was the balance of the three, their sum became fragrant despite their constituent parts.
Quan Shen laughed. “The bouquet of the river’s magic, rarest of the rare. Breathe deep and grow drunk, pup!”
I left him to indulge while I considered another part of the puzzle. How heavy was the Hetu, and could a lone assassin carry it and escape notice?
The elm table that held the Hetu had been exquisitely carved. Its spindly legs resembled dragon-horses, while the tabletop had been inlaid with a gold-and-bone magic-square pattern. It was not the sturdiest of tables, but it had likely been designed to hold only one thing: the Hetu.
The scaly hide of a dragon-horse likely weighed more than horsehide. Assuming the unfolded hide covered the entire table, I calculated the approximate weight of the relic from those dimensions.
The Hetu would be easiest to carry if the assassin had an accomplice, I told Quan Shen. Or, if he acted alone, he would need to be a strong man to manage such a cumbersome relic. Even so, he could not have gone far without a horse. Tell Kou Shen.
Quan Shen did not obey. Instead, he sniffed the air and growled. “I smell rain on its way. Hurry, or the scents will wash away! ” We dropped to all fours, kicked off our shoes and dashed out of the cabin.
Quan Shen! This is undignified! I shouted.
“Think about the mission,” he said. We leaped from the deck of the ship onto the rocky shore, tumbling into a predatory crouch. Soldiers around us stared in disbelief. Ren Chun had likened spirit-possession to a dragon dance, but I felt like a lion dance costume worn by Quan Shen the acrobat.
“Wait,” Kou Shen shouted behind us. “Take a horse—”
“Faster on foot. Try to catch up,” Quan Shen said. We locked onto the scent trail and bolted.
The sight of a shirtless and shoeless man tearing through a camp on the eve of war set off cries of alarm by nervous soldiers. Everyone thinks I’ve gone mad, I said, and prayed no one would attack us.
Behind us, I heard hoofbeats and Kou Shen’s voice. “Hold your swords!” he commanded, much to my relief.
Clouds above threatened to blot out the full moon. We cleared the camp, bounded up a slope to the edge of a forest of oaks, and sniffed. “Smell that horse? This way!” Quan Shen said, and raced into the dark woodlands.
The fragrant trail of the Hetu lured us southwest through the forest. A few jagged stones underfoot cut shallow wounds on our callused hands and feet as we ran, but we gritted our teeth and pushed on. Occasionally we would stop to sniff and confirm the direction before setting off again.
The moonlight filtered down through the canopy of leaves, barely enough to see by. However, the gloom worked to our advantage; a careful assassin would have had to lead his horse down the path slowly, as a misstep could break the animal’s leg.
“Are you loving this!” Quan Shen said, more of a statement than a question.
Surprisingly, I was. Quan Shen’s magic granted my body strength and speed it never had, and I never felt more alive. The darkness proved little hindrance with the hound’s mystical senses guiding us.
Kou Shen was taking the bigger risk, pressing his mount through the same terrain after us. At first, he held his own on the trail, but Quan Shen had been taking incredible leaps to take short cuts that a rider and horse could never follow. I lost track of where they were behind us.
Turn back and find Kou Shen. We cannot fight the killer alone, I said. We have no sword, and even if we had one, I had only basic training!
“You call yourself a soldier?” Quan Shen growled.
I am an expert shot with the trebuchet, I said in defense.
“Easy, I’ll rip his throat out with my teeth!” Quan Shen was drunk on the magic of the wild, thirsting for a fight. Even I became tipsy, but I fought to hold on to rational thought.
A few drops of rain splashed upon our back.
Our nose twitched. “Smell that? Mugwort. We’re close!” he said.
Take him by surprise, I advised.
But Quan Shen would not listen. We barked a war cry and hurtled forward.
There, the silhouette of a man leading a horse!
The assassin had heard the noise and reached for his sword, but Quan Shen growled and pounced, forcing him to the ground. W
e sunk our teeth into the man’s forearm, but he punched us in the head with his other hand, disorienting us. He rolled away from his frightened mare, drawing his sword in a fluid motion.
We shook off our daze, turned and crouched.
Our enemy rose to his feet, and I recognized his face. He’s one of the healers!
Quan Shen charged the assassin, but he was quicker, sidestepping our attack. A sword cut connected with our left shoulder, opening a painful gash. We growled and backed out of his reach.
Rain began to fall.
Listen, Quan Shen, his sword gives him an advantage, but we need not fight. I drew his attention to the mare, which had a bulky bundle strapped to her back. Spook the horse and deny him the Hetu until reinforcements arrive.
We started circling the assassin. “I can take him,” Quan Shen said, baring our teeth.
With sword at the ready, the assassin slowly approached his horse.
Obey, or we both die, I said. If you are the spirit of the hound, draw on your other qualities besides the wild. Loyalty. Dedication. Duty!
I felt Quan Shen calm. “As you command.”
We barked and leaped through the air with supernatural strength toward the mare, grabbed a branch overhead, and kicked her rump, panicking the horse. She reared and bolted.
The assassin surged forward and cut at us, but we swung ourselves up onto the branch. The tree’s limb bowed and creaked under our weight. It would not hold for long. Undaunted, the assassin unleashed a barrage of strikes at our feet, but we grabbed the higher branch and pulled our feet out of his reach.
“What now?” Quan Shen muttered.
Our ears picked up the sound of approaching hooves hitting damp earth. Out of the shadows came Kou Shen astride his steed, his blade wet with rain. The assassin turned, but not in time: a swing of Kou Shen’s sword as he rode past separated the villain’s head from his body.
We breathed easier. “Kou Shen! What kept you?” Quan Shen asked.
“You should’ve waited,” Kou Shen said. “Come down, my friend.”
I caught a whiff of old tea in an updraft. Wait, Quan Shen, isn’t that the scent of fear?
