Jeff Stone_Five Ancestors 03

by Snake

  Sanfu sat back in his chair. “That's the only news I have to share. I reported everything else to NgGung when he slipped into the village a week ago.”

  Seh frowned. That's how Mong knew Sanfu would be traveling with us, he thought. I can't believe NgGung snuck in and out of the village without saying hello to us. Sanfu should have given us an update on the bandits, too. Seh felt his heart begin to beat faster. He was irritated. He took a slow, calming breath.

  Sanfu looked at Mong. “Do you have any news to share with me?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Mong replied. “NgGung is looking into it as we speak, but we have heard news that Ying is in prison and Tonglong now controls his troops—”

  The news was so unexpected, Seh's breath caught in his throat. Mong fell silent and stared at the medallion.

  Seh knew he'd been caught. Embarrassed, he pivoted the medallion all the way up and poked his head inside. He nodded hello.

  Everyone in the room burst into laughter.

  “You must be Mong's son, Seh,” the Governor said with a smile. “I am the governor of this region.”

  “I figured it out,” Seh said, lowering his head. “It's nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” the Governor said.

  “You're blushing, Seh,” Mong said.

  Seh raised his head. “Sorry.”

  Mong chuckled. “Don't be sorry. You did well. You found a hole in our security. The iron latch that secures that medallion must have rusted loose. I'll mention it to Yuen.”

  Seh shrugged.

  “How long have you been up there?” Mong asked.

  “Long enough,” Seh replied.

  “I see,” Mong said. “I'm sorry if you're feeling like you've been kept in the dark. We're discussing something that is much bigger than the destruction of Cangzhen or even the destruction of Shaolin. It's a problem that may extend well beyond this region. The new emperor is making life unlivable for everyone except a select few, and we've vowed to do something about it. The Emperor knows about me, but he knows nothing about the Governor's involvement. Nor does he know anything about the Jade Phoenix, Sanfu, or you boys. We'd like to keep it that way.”

  “I understand,” Seh said.

  “Good,” Mong said. “I'm afraid you can't stay up there any longer. I don't want to risk anyone seeing you. I promise I'll fill you and your brothers in this evening. We could use your help.”

  Seh's narrow eyes widened. “You could use our help?”

  “Absolutely,” Mong said. “And we'll return the favor. Sanfu has gotten word to me that you wish to address issues surrounding Ying and someone called Bing. I believe I can help you. Ying is in prison, but Bing roams the streets. Bing is indeed the cause of Malao's father's disappearance. I may also be able to find out more about your dragon scroll map through my network. What do you say?”

  “Sure,” Seh replied.

  “Good,” Mong said. “We need a few more hours. Perhaps you would like to roam around the waterfront until we're through.”

  Seh thought about the crowds. And the stench. “I don't know—”

  “Give it a try,” Mong suggested. “Perhaps the bridge—you can see everything from there, and there is usually a breeze over the river, bringing fresh air from outside the city. Do you think you can find it?”

  Seh decided to take a look.”I think so,” he replied.

  “Good,” Mong said. “Go eat, then take Fu and Malao there. I'll meet you as soon as we're done. There will be plenty of things to keep you occupied until I arrive, I'm sure. Besides the dragon boats, I recommend you take a look at some of the acrobats. They are extremely talented. There is one group that dresses head to toe in ivory silk that you should find particularly interesting.”

  This is amazing!” Malao squealed.

  “You can say that again,” Fu said.

  “This is amazing!” Malao squealed again, and giggled so loud, passersby stared at him.

  Seh shook his head. For once, Malao wasn't overreacting. It was an amazing sight. From where they stood on the bridge, they could see the activity on both banks of the Yellow River. A hundred dragon boat teams were making preparations to race. About half the boats cruised the water. The rest were beached in neat rows on both the northern and southern shorelines.

  The boats were all very long and narrow and rode low in the water. Each had a wooden dragon head attached to the front and a wooden dragon tail attached to the back. Ten men paddled on each side, while a person in the front beat a small drum to keep time so the paddlers would work as one. An additional person in the back steered.

  Every boat was different, from the shape of the dragon heads and tails to the colorful patterns on the boats to the costumes worn by the participants. From what Seh could tell from listening to conversations around them on the bridge, the dragon boats came from villages far and near, up and down the river.

  Seh knew that dragons were creatures of the water as well as the heavens. He couldn't help but think of Long and wonder if he was okay. Knowing Long, he would be just fine.

  Seh inhaled deeply. The warm afternoon breeze washed through his lungs. Mong was right—the bridge was the best spot. They could see the whole riverbank, and it wasn't too crowded. It was large enough to hold several hundred people, but only fifty or so were on it now. It was far less hectic than either shore, where hundreds of people were beginning to stake out positions for the races. They stood shoulder to shoulder under rows of evenly spaced willow trees.

  “Hey, what are they doing?” Malao asked. He pointed to a group of people throwing fist-sized packages into the river from the southern shore.

  A fat older man standing next to Malao answered. “Those are food offerings.”

  Fu's ears perked up. “Food?”

  The man laughed, and Seh noticed the man's stomach jiggle beneath his brown robe. He was huge. There was a roll of fat beneath his chin the size of a small melon.

  “A boy after my own heart,” the man said to Fu. “What a waste, eh? Inside those lovely bamboo-leaf packages are special rice-and-meat dumplings.”

  Fu's eyes widened. “Who are the offerings for?”

  “You don't know?” the man asked.

  “No,” Fu replied.

  “What do you think this festival is all about?” the man asked.

  “Dragon boats,” Malao said. “It's the Dragon Boat Festival.”

  The man shook his sizable head.

  Seh decided to join the conversation. He was worried about what Malao and Fu might accidentally say to the stranger. “The boats are only part of it,” Seh said to Malao. “This festival is actually called the Duan Wu Festival. Duan Wu was a statesman and poet who lived more than fifteen hundred years ago. In an act of protest against the corrupt rulers of the time, he publicly drowned himself in the river. The dragon boats represent the local fishermen's scramble to try and save the man they loved and respected, and the food and drums recount how the locals beat drums and threw food in the water afterward to keep fish from eating Duan Wu's body.”

  “Yuck,” Malao said.

  “I suppose it is a rather morbid story,” the large man said. He looked at Seh. “You know your history. Is this your first time here?”

  Seh wasn't sure how to answer that. As his mind began to race, a number of drums started beating on the southern shore. They sounded much bigger than the drums on the dragon boats. Fast, rhythmic melodies filled the air, and people both on that shore and the bridge began to move toward the sound. Seh was grateful for the interruption.

  “What's going on?” Malao asked.

  “Lion dancers,” the man replied. “You have heard of lion dancers, haven't you?”

  “Of course!” Malao said.

  “You should have a look, then,” the man said. “The group of acrobats camped over there do the best lion dances I've ever seen. They wear all white.”

  Seh's eyebrows rose. That's what Mong had said, too. Seh wasn't eager to join the crowd, but his curio
sity was piqued.

  “I love to dance!” Malao said. “Come on!” He began to wiggle and shake, twisting his way through the people on the bridge.

  Fu rolled his eyes and looked at Seh. Seh nodded.

  “Nice talking to you boys,” the large man said with a grin.

  “Likewise,” Seh replied.

  Fu grunted and began to shove his way through the crowd to keep up with Malao. Seh followed in Fu's wake. As the crowd thickened, Seh paid extra attention to the scroll in the small of his back and the snake on his arm. He didn't want to lose either.

  By the time they reached the southern shore, the crowd had formed a huge circle. Malao wriggled and Fu shoved until the three of them were at the circle's inner edge. In the very center, Seh saw two costume creatures that resembled stylized lions he had previously only heard about. A single person was inside one, and two people were inside the other. The lion dancers were hunched over inside the costumes, their legs covered with material that matched the shaggy fringe of the costume lion.

  As Seh watched the performers jump, tumble, and gyrate to the beat of the drums, the pit of his stomach began to tingle in a familiar way. He glanced around, and his attention was drawn to a slim girl in an ivory silk dress with a matching turban on her head. She seemed familiar.

  Seh eyed the girl as she worked her way around the inner section of the circle with a large bowl in one hand, collecting donations. She moved gracefully and had pale skin and a long, slender neck. She had obviously been injured recently because her other arm was in a sling and she walked with a noticeable limp. Much of her face was covered by an ivory veil, but Seh knew exactly who she was.

  “Hok!” Malao shrieked.

  Hok turned and hobbled away, ignoring Malao's call.

  “Hey!” Malao said. “Why did Hok—mmmpf!”

  Seh clamped one hand over Malao's mouth and whispered in Malao's ear, “Hok probably doesn't want anyone to know who she is. The bandits told us that people think she is responsible for the destruction of Shaolin Temple. Remember?”

  Malao nodded, and Seh let go. Seh watched Hok's white turban slowly bob into the crowd as she limped along. She was leaving the circle.

  Fu leaned toward Seh. “What should we do?”

  “Follow her,” Seh whispered, “and try not to attract any attention.”

  Fu began to work his way through the masses. Seh and Malao trailed behind. Hok appeared to know they were following her because she took her time weaving her way through the group. Once she made it out the other side of the circle, she ambled toward a collection of large carts several hundred paces downstream from the crowd. Hok stopped when she reached the makeshift camp's fire pit. She turned to Seh, Malao, and Fu and smiled.

  “Can I talk yet?” Malao asked.

  Seh nodded.

  “Woo-hoo!” Malao said, and jumped into the air. “You're alive, big sister!”

  Hok bowed and removed her veil. Her face was badly bruised. “Hello, brothers,” she said. She straightened her dress and looked at Seh. “I guess everyone knows my secret now.”

  “Not everyone,” Seh replied. “Only these two. I'm glad you're okay.”

  Hok stared at Seh, unblinking.

  “Seh didn't tell us you were a girl,” Fu said. “We found out from that leopard monk Tsung when the three of us were at Shaolin. I'm glad you survived the attack.”

  Hok's thin eyebrows rose. “You went to Shaolin?”

  “Yes,” Seh said. “How did you end up there?”

  “I'll have to tell you some other time,” Hok replied. “Right now, I want to introduce you to some people.” She cleared her throat and gave a single sharp trill, like a crane.

  A moment later, a tall, beautiful woman drifted toward them from within the circle of people upstream. She was dressed just like Hok, and she looked Seh, Malao, and Fu over with unblinking eyes before stopping beside Hok. “Yes?” she said in a quiet, peaceful voice.

  “Mother, I would like you to meet my brothers,” Hok said. She pointed. “This is Seh, this is Malao, and this is Fu. Everyone, meet my mother.”

  Seh blinked. The woman did look a surprising amount like Hok, especially with them both wearing matching head wraps.

  Seh bowed.

  “Your mother?” Malao said. “Wow! Nice to meet you!”

  “Yes,” Fu said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Hok's mother replied.

  “Hey!” a young voice shouted. “What are all those boys doing here?”

  Seh turned to see the outer edge of the circle part. A girl about five years old ran toward them. Jogging next to her was the single lion dancer from the performance, still in full costume.

  The girl ran up to Hok's mother, while the lion dancer stopped next to Hok. The lion dancer put his arm—which looked like a lion's front leg—around Hok's waist. Seh felt his face suddenly flush. What did that dancer think he was doing?

  The little girl stomped her foot. “Isn't anybody going to answer my question?”

  “Mind your manners,” Hok's mother said. She rested her hand on the girl's head, and Seh noticed that the girl's hair was brown. He had never seen anyone with brown hair before. And although the little girl's eyes were Chinese in shape, their color was light brown instead of dark brown or black like everybody else's.

  “These boys are your sister's friends,” Hok's mother said to the girl.

  “You have a sister, too?” Malao said. “That's great!”

  Hok nodded, smiling.

  Seh pointed at the lion dancer. “Is this your brother?”

  “Hardly,” the lion dancer replied. At least, that's what Seh thought he said. It was difficult to tell because the dancer spoke with a thick accent Seh didn't recognize. The lion dancer removed the costume head, and Seh did a double take.

  It was a teenage boy with very pale skin— even paler than Hok's. He had small red dots and splotches across his nose and cheeks, and his hair was almost white, like rice. Stranger still were his eyes, which were almost completely round, like the moon when it was full. And they were blue. Like the sky. He was so … ugly.

  “You're a guai lo!” Malao said in Cantonese.

  The boy didn't respond.

  “You're a ghost boy,” Seh said in Mandarin, and the boy's round eyes narrowed. He took a step toward Seh.

  Hok put her hand on the ghost boy's shoulder. “This is Charles,” she said.

  “What's a ‘Charles’?” Fu asked.

  “Charles is his name,” Hok said. “He's my friend, so be nice to him.”

  Charles stared hard at Fu. Fu growled.

  The pit of Seh's stomach began to tingle, and the snake on his arm shivered. Seh focused on Charles, but he didn't sense anything. Something else was wrong. There was a commotion behind them.

  The boys turned toward the river, and Seh noticed that five of the dragon boat teams that had been practicing had beached their boats on the southern shore, about two hundred paces from Hok's camp. The team members were coming ashore quickly, and they were lining up in ranks—like soldiers. People in the crowd began to stare and point.

  A solitary dragon boat remained in the water behind the men in formation. The steersman stood up and removed his silk hat ceremoniously. A long, thick ponytail braid flopped out and bounced off his chest. He smiled at Seh and shouted across the space between them, “Remember me?”

  Seh stared at the man but didn't respond. The man felt extremely familiar.

  “Tonglong!” Fu said.

  “Very good, Pussycat,” Tonglong shouted. “Now it's the serpent's turn to talk. You have something that I want. Give it to me and we'll be on our way. Deny me and—”

  Tonglong snapped his fingers. The twenty costumed men in his boat each raised a qiang and pointed it at Seh.

  The entire southern shoreline erupted into chaos. The crowd dispersed in a thousand directions like an exploding firework. Women and children screamed and men cried out as they slipped and fell and were trampled b
y hundreds of fleeing feet. Desperate voices of every pitch and volume implored the heavens to protect them from the qiangs.

  Seh scanned his immediate surroundings. Next to him were Fu, Hok, Hok's mother, Hok's little sister, and Charles. Malao was gone.

  Seh began to scan farther out. Most of the people were heading away from the river onto the main thoroughfare, ducking into the side streets that intersected it. At the same time, a group of five individuals was heading in the opposite direction—directly toward him. Seh turned his focus on them. It was Mong, Sanfu, Hung, Gao, and NgGung.

  “Don't give up that scroll!” Mong shouted to Seh, his deep, booming voice overpowering the shrieks and cries of the panicked crowd.

  Seh's eyes narrowed, and he turned back to face Tonglong. Though they were greatly outnumbered, Seh felt invigorated by the arrival of the bandits. “I didn't plan to,” he shouted.

  Tonglong tucked his long ponytail braid into his sash. “I had a feeling you would say that,” he shouted. He raised one arm high, then let it drop. “FIRE!”

  Twenty qiangs rang out from Tonglong's dragon boat, and scrambling bystanders howled as qiang balls tore into them. Seh blinked several times and glanced around. No one he knew had been hit, though he wasn't sure about Malao. The screaming of the bystanders intensified, and the snake shimmied up Seh's arm. It tightened its grip as the ranks of soldiers surged forward from the riverbank and the men in Tonglong's boat began to reload.

  “Crane Defends the Nest!” Mong shouted, and before Seh knew it, the bandits had formed a ring around him, Fu, Hok, Hok's sister, and Charles. Seh stared wide-eyed when he noticed Hok's mother had joined the bandits in the ring formation.

  “MaMa!” Hok's sister shouted. “No!”

  “Shhh,” Hok said to her. “MaMa is going to be all right.”

  Hok's mother didn't respond. Seh watched her stand shoulder to shoulder with the bandits as the first rush of soldiers hit them. Hok's mother fought with the deadly precision and smooth flow of a crane-style master. She delivered an endless barrage of elbow strikes and crane-beak blows to shocked soldiers, leaving them bloodied and broken at her feet. The pile soon grew so large before her that the bandits had to rotate to give her more room.