by Shea Meadows
Ho smiled and shook his head. “How simple that sounds. It made all the difference in the world that you knew their deepest secrets. The aunties addressed the truth in their hypocrisy.”
After everyone had eaten, the group followed Sung Ho to the cellar of the house. The damp atmosphere was overlaid by the scent of sandalwood and the putrid smell of rodent refuse. The Aunties kiln sat on the floor near shelves with material to create ceramics, all covered in spider webs.
When they arrived at the door to Sung Ho’s private archives, their host pushed away a burlap curtain to reveal a modern-looking digital lock. He entered a series of Chinese characters then a series of numbers, following which the mechanism started to hum and clank, and the lock released. Ho opened the substantial steel door.
“It’s all climate controlled in here. The rest of the cellar is camouflage, so the government loses interest before getting this far. It’s worked well. I had it installed by a likeminded friend with underground connections who doesn’t want historic national treasures to be part of a fire in front of the government center,” Ho said as he ushered the group into the underground storage.
“You will notice the large floor lamps with flood lights pointing toward the top of the cave. It was so dark in here it made it difficult to find anything. In my father and grandfather’s times, we used gas lanterns when cataloging new treasures and locating old things of interest. The same friend, who put in the door and lock did other work. He smoothed the dirt floors and put in bricks and installed wiring for the lamps. It would have been too difficult use overhead lighting.
“The lamps do cause some distracting shadows, so it was difficult to examine artifacts. To handle that, we purchased several backlit desks. I only wish he’d put in fans as well. It gets rather stuffy and moldy in here. Sorry to say I’m seldom able to add to the collection. My supervisor has an eagle’s eye when it comes to rescuing discarded items. If my grandfather is watching from the Celestial Kingdom, he is annoyed.”
“This is what I saw when Moon and I went exploring,” Nory chirped telepathically.
Ho turned quickly. “Was that the baby?”
“You heard her, too?” Ricky asked.
“I certainly did. She was down here before with your sister?” Ho questioned.
David nodded. “They were the ones who did the original out-of-body treasure hunt when we were on the plane.”
Ho laughed. “What interesting friends you have, Free.”
“Where did you locate the scrolls, baby Eleanor?” Sung Ho asked.
“The third row back from the center and the second tier from the top is where the instructions for the Bi Mo Chu are stored in a very dusty case. As to the Bing Ta Cri, your grandfather has them with the remains of Lee Gee’s possessions. Do you know where that is, Mr. Sung Ho?”
“There is a directory of objects, but Father wasn’t as meticulous in maintaining it as Grandfather,” Ho answered, picking up a much-used book with an index at the front.
“Would the rest of Lee Gee’s things be in the area where you and I found the mirror and the small cube?” Susan asked.
Ho grinned at her. “If you remember where we were, go to it. I was distracted by your talk of going to Germany, so the whole night is a blur.”
“It was also a blur from all the beer we guzzled before we came down here. But I think I remember. Where are the lamps with the Tiffany shades?” Susan questioned.
“You remember that? There are two stained glass floor lamps. The aunties came here often when they had bodies. They searched for examples of ceramic pieces from early dynasties. They hated using the gas lights, so Grandfather had someone install very primitive electrical wiring near the area where the ceramics are stored. When we rewired the cave, we kept them in their original places in honor of Winy and C.”
Ho lead them further back in the rows of shelves that held countless cartons until it was evident that the quality of the light had changed. The Tiffany lamps were red, green and blue and depicted Chinese dragons. Ricky smiled when she saw them; the lamps reflected the aunties’ personalities.
“Originally, this was to be a wine cellar. James La Fee commissioned the house. He planned to be in Shanghai more than he was in Paris, but it turned out the opposite. At one point, this cave was half-full of wine bottles when La Fee had an active wine trade. Then his business fell through, and he seldom came to China. Grandfather started using one corner of the cave for his illicit artifact collection. La Fee saw what he was doing, but they were such good friends, he never made a stink. After La Fee died, Grandfather inherited the wine along with the house, but the wine was gradually sold to pay for upkeep of the cave. If not for La Fee’s failed wine venture, this collection would never have had a safe place to nest.”
He looked to Susan. “Okay, Freedom, we are by the Tiffany lamps. Where was the Lee Gee section?”
“I’m pretty sure it was by the first Tiffany. I recall looking down the row at the second one.” She paused. “I’m guessing, but I think the box you pulled the Bing Ta Cri and the mirror from was in this area. It had red characters stamped on it.”
They all looked at the boxes near the first Tiffany lamp, and Nory let out a squeal that echoed through the cellar. “There it is! It says ‘Han Dynasty collection,’” she telepathically contributed.
Ho took down the box and laid it on a lighted worktable at the end of the row, and he and Susan looked through it. “I don’t remember seeing scrolls in it,” Susan said as she sorted through various ancient objects.
“They are usually in long leather boxes,” Ho informed them. He went back to the space where he had removed the box and rummaged around. “Ah, there,” he said, pulling out a leather scroll case wedged between two larger boxes. He brushed off years of spider webs as he carried it to the table.
The leather was cracked and peeling, but considering it could be hundreds of years old, it was in remarkable shape. Ho put on a pair of sanitized gloves and carefully removed a satin bag from the box. He reached in ever so gently to remove a tightly wound piece of parchment and smoothed it out on the glass surface of the table. He used four small stones to hold down the edges of the ancient manuscript.
“If this is what we think it is, it could be close to two thousand years old. Do you remember it, Freedom? Your former persona, Lee Gee, might have written it.”
Susan Fry looked at the manuscript her eyes vacant and her face blank. Her body was there, but her present life-time had been pushed aside. Her features subtly changed, and Ricky could see the outline of her former incarnation superimposed. Her voice was high and reedy when she spoke, and what she said was in the ancient Han dialect.
Ricky called for Sima Qian’s help with translation, and Ho frantically recorded Susan’s words in the back of the artifact catalogue. This is what they heard:
The wind of change moves through the land of the Han. My time has arrived. The Glorious Emperor Jingdi has given me new power. I am granted the auspicious title of Empress, and the former harlot is set aside. All of this because I usurped the power of the criminal Ta Yi, once the head sorcerer, who is now residing with the spirits within the Bi Mo Chu that he once fashioned at the command of my beloved husband.
How did he move into that inner sanctum? He misjudged my ability to learn and to best his magic. While he consorted with the harlot who was formerly the Empress, I used what he taught me and created things he never dreamed of. I am the mother of the Bing Ta Cri, since Ta Yi, in his arrogance, did not bother to create it. This simple device is the remedy for the Bi Mo Chu and unlocks its door and frees its slaves.
Ta Yi thought he was all powerful; that when he sent a ghost into the spirit trap it would always stay there until he summoned it to serve. I considered this a flaw in reasoning. We are humans, so have the potential for error. He should know this now. His error of consorting with the harlot made him vulnerable. He did not see me watching his trysts in the shadows.
This is how the Bing Ta Cri can be used
by others if I have not had the chance to do so before the death of this body. Its power is divided between two objects which would be mistaken as frivolous tools by everyone seeing them. They hold the energy of the royal purple paint made only by those with the knowledge of magic. One object is a mirror of the finest silver originating in the mountain near the burial grounds of the Qin. Its energy is infused with the spells of all the dynasties that came before us. But the face of the mirror is only a fraction of the working. In the ceramic body of the mirror that surrounds the silver, I have arranged the words of magic. They are as follows:
Unlock, Realign, Boil over, Stream forth.
These words are said while holding the small cube between left thumb and index finger near the prison cube while making the intention to release one of the occupants of the Bi Mo Chu. One may also release all but a few that are selected to remain. Perhaps those who find my testament will leave Ta Yi within the Bi Mo Chu for all eternity if I am unable to complete my work. He deserves such a fate, as he has reproduced the evil worked by the sorcerer of the Xia dynasty. The Bi Mo Chu should never have been resurrected.
I beg the gods: May this be the last time it is seen in any reality. May I successfully use the Bing Ta Cri before I travel to the Celestial Kingdom without bringing forth the ire of my royal husband.
Written the Year of the Monkey, by the Empress Wang Zhi.
Susan took a deep breath, kissed the parchment then slumped unconscious to the floor. Ho grabbed her as she fell and lowered her gently. Ricky placed her hands on Susan’s forehead, with the intention of bringing the Susan Fry persona back into her friend’s body. In a few minutes, Susan was able to stand, but didn’t remember having been the translator of the document. She leaned against George while Ho read what she had said earlier. She shook her head in amazement.
“I remember writing that, in a vague sort of way. I can see myself, looking very different, sitting at a shiny wooden desk. And yes, Lee Gee wrote it rather than dictating it. She was one smart cookie,” Susan said.
“I have a copier in my home office. We’ll bring the parchment up along with the translation. It is in ancient Han, so it’s different than Mandarin but close enough for me to tell that this is accurate. We have to look at the characters on the edge of the mirror and be sure that the words match if we plan to use this to stage a jailbreak for the occupants of the Bi Mo Chu,” Ho said.
“Next, back to the area in the tiers where Nory and Moon saw the scrolls that Ta Yi used to send ghosts into the Bi Mo Chu. There might be something else in them that will allow us to do the work here while the prison cube is in Minneapolis,” David said.
Ho nodded. “You’re right. If Norton Reston is sending the ghosts to the cube when it’s halfway around the world, we may be able to release them back to familiar surroundings.”
“That would be preferable to having them wandering around Minnesota and invading house after house. We’ve already seen what damage they can create,” Ricky agreed.
“I have to agree with my former self. I don’t want Ta Yi getting a free pass. He can stay in cube world. Maybe Norton can keep him company,” Susan said.
“I have a few good memories of my former father.” Nory said, telepathically. “I would like to get him to go to spirit world and clean up his karma. But I won’t stand in the way if it looks like he’s unredeemable.”
Ricky gave her daughter a hug. “You learned a lot between incarnations, sweetheart.”
They walked back to the area of archives where Moon and Nory had located the scrolls about the Bi Mo Chu. Ho retrieved them from their leather case and silken protective cover and unrolled the first one on the backlit table for examination.
“This one contains a list of materials and herbs used when working with the Bi Mo Chu. It includes the type of stones Ta Yi found worked best when preparing potions to transform the ghosts into the forms most helpful to the Emperor. I wonder how Reston could utilize them in his ghost form,” Ho said as he skimmed the first scroll.
“It could be possible. Physical matter isn’t as real as it looks. Everything is made up of energetic patterns. Reston, being a master metaphysician, would need to make a higher vibrational equivalent of a physical object, and the spell would succeed,” Ricky answered.
Ho nodded as he replaced the first scroll with the second. “This one relates the invocations needed to put spirits into the cube, remove them, return them and change their character. Things like that, along with the potential problems the Bi Mo Chu might cause if it overfilled or its nature changed.”
Ricky could see the Lee Gee persona hovering around Susan Fry so was not surprised when the pediatrician’s voice changed again. “There are two scrolls and two of us who can easily translate. You translate that scroll, Master Ho, and I will translate the first.”
Ho looked at her quizzically. “That would speed up the process.” He turned to George. “Would you get some paper from the big desk outside the door, Mr. Banner?”
George nodded and returned quickly with a small stack plus two heavy-point pens.
Ho rolled up the second scroll and stretched out the first over the lighted table, leaving room for Susan’s past incarnation to work. He pulled a chair from a stack near the end of the tunnel, and then went to the lighted table at the end of the next row with his own copying supplies.
“The rest of us will go upstairs until you’re done so we won’t be a distraction,” Ricky said, motioning to the rest to follow her.
All were quiet until they were back in the living room. Then David asked, “Are we sure how reliable Susan’s translation will be? She was Lee Gee again. How do we know she’s really working toward the same goal as we are?”
Ricky sighed. “I had the same thought. That’s why Sima Qian is monitoring them both from the higher frequencies. If either one of them gets it wrong, by accident or on purpose, he will let us know.”
“Moon is down there, too. It will be impossible for either of them to skew the results,” Nory contributed. “I think Lee Gee is highly motivated to undo any wrong she started way back when. Otherwise, she’s a talented actress.”
Bonta was sitting it a wing backed padded chair, with sketchpad in hand, drawing the scene taking place in the archives. A whole host of spirit guides was watching the translators and all were smiling, which was reassuring.
An hour later, they heard conversation as Ho and Susan came upstairs, translations in hand.
“And how strange did that feel to be possessed by an ancient empress? Do you feel her in you still?” Ho was asking.
“She’s like a cloud hovering over me. She feels horrible that something she was part of creating has enslaved people for over two thousand years. I think the translation she gave me was accurate.”
“Don’t feel offended if I double-check your work. She was one of the greatest manipulators in Chinese history,” Ho said with a laugh.
Susan was laughing as they came into the dining area. “Not offended in the least. I would never misguide anyone in something so important, but I can’t vouch for her.”
“Everything finished?” David asked.
“I have two more tasks,” Ho answered. “I have to call in some favors at work to be officially covered to join your tour, and I have to copy the document and translation for the information on the Bing Ta Cri.
“I have to go in and wheedle my superiors in person, so you all might as well enjoy some sight-seeing in Shanghai. I will call you when everything is in order. Do you have a trip itinerary I can copy and bring with me?” Ho asked.
George took out the trip information from a folder and handed it to Ho. “We have one more night in Shanghai then fly to Wuhan tomorrow at one. We tour the Hubei Provincial Museum and then board the cruise ship at four.”
“Hold on for a couple of minutes. I will copy this and give you copies of the translations so you can read through them and solidify your strategy,” Ho said. “I will call Susan when I confirm that I can join you.”
* * *
Chapter 17
The sun was glaring, but the air was cold and full of smog when they boarded their cruise ship in Wuhan two days later. Sung Ho had met them at the airport, having managed to get a seat on the flight near where they were sitting. They met the cruise director for Tours of China when they arrived and were whisked off to Hubei Provincial Museum to see an assortment of artifacts from the early dynasties. Part of the experience at that museum was a twenty-minute brass bell concert. Nory wiggled around on her father’s shoulders while they listened, and she tried to touch the bells.
The tour bus took them to their cruise port on the Yangtze River to board The Imperial Jewel. About three hundred other tourists joined them at the landing. Close to half the passengers were from all over China, and the rest were from Europe, the Middle East and America.
The Clarks’ stateroom was small but clean and had a bathroom that would allow the occupants to use the toilet and take a shower at the same time.
“Ouch, darn it anyway,” David said with a hand to his head. “That’s the second time I bumped into the ceiling in the last five minutes.”
“Once on the balcony door.” Ricky questioned, “What did you conk it on just now?”
“Bathroom doorway. Things are beautiful but miniaturized. Not designed for people over six feet tall,” he grumbled.
Nory laughed and jumped around inside the portable crib they had reserved for her. “You have to pay attention, Daddy.”
David reached down and tickled her. “I don’t plan to spend much time in the room, only for sleeping. Did you see the huge deck and the enclosed swimming pool?” He took out the flyer for shipboard activities. “Our dinner seating is at six, and then there’s a performance of local musicians in the auditorium after second seating is through, about eight. Do you think you can nap for a bit so you can stay up for that, Nory?”
