The Ghost Bride

by Yangsze Choo

  She was silent for a moment, then she lifted her eyes. “I lied to you.”

  I shrank away from her outstretched hand.

  “But I did it for your own good.”

  “My own good!” I said bitterly. “It’s surprising how many people know what’s best for me.”

  “How can I explain? You should go now, before the demons come.”

  “So what are you really?” I asked. “Another spy? One of Master Awyoung’s minions, or do you belong to Lim Tian Ching? It was really very clever. I actually liked you.”

  “You liked me?” For some reason, this seemed to affect her.

  “What does it matter? No doubt you’re here to lock me up again.”

  “How can I convince you?” she asked, wringing her hands.

  “Then tell me the truth!”

  “Listen then, Li Lan, although I am afraid this will only delay you. I am your mother.”

  My mother! How could this ancient creature be my mother? I had been so sure that Second Wife, in all her lissome beauty, was she. My disbelief must have shown in my face. “You must find me disgusting,” said Auntie Three. “I know that I look nothing like what you expected. Believe me, it has been difficult to hide this from you.”

  “But how is this possible?”

  “You were right that I came to this household. You met the Third Concubine at our old house? I guessed as much when you spoke to me earlier. Truly, your grandfather was wrong to take her as a concubine. She was young and full of life; she was sorely disappointed in him. I didn’t know then about her connection to the Lim family or to my cousin, who later married Lim Tian Ching’s father. He’s still alive, is he not?”

  I nodded, speechless momentarily.

  “Still, when I died, I was surprised to see her here and also at the extent of her bitterness. Did she tell you about the smallpox?”

  “She said she sent it.” I faltered.

  Auntie Three, or my mother, as I supposed I ought to think of her, sighed. I took the chance to study her. Her wrinkled face, scored with a thousand lines, looked weary and frighteningly ancient.

  “She did send it. When I died, your father was very ill, and so were many members of our household. What a waste!”

  “But you still haven’t explained! Why are you so old now? Did you trade something, just as the Third Concubine did when she caused the smallpox?”

  “Yes, I too traded the youth of my spirit body, or part of the essence of my soul. I did what she boasted of doing. I sought out the same creature.”

  “How could you do such a thing? And why?”

  “Do you not know why? I wish you wouldn’t ask me.”

  “But I want to know! You owe me this, at least!”

  “I left you alone, motherless. But I traded my youth for your recovery from the smallpox.”

  My hand fingered the small scar behind my left ear. That was all that remained of the disease that had ravaged our household. At the time, a fortune-teller had said I was extremely lucky.

  “She meant to do as much damage as possible. If you hadn’t died, you would have survived like your father, permanently scarred. Then who would marry you? You would have had no future.”

  “You did that for me?”

  “It was my fault. Why should you suffer her wrath?”

  “How can you say that it was your fault?”

  “Because I saw she was unhappy and I did little to befriend her. We were young women living in the same household, except I was married to a man I loved and she was the concubine of an old man. And she wanted a baby desperately. I’ve often thought that if only I had been a little kinder to her, then maybe none of this would have transpired.”

  “But she was so horrible about everything!”

  “Child, what does it matter now? When you came here, to the Lim household, I could hardly believe it.”

  “You recognized me?”

  “You looked familiar to me. Your voice and your mannerisms. The stories you told about your amah. She was my amah too, you know.”

  My heart was beating with a strange kind of happiness. She had recognized me! My mother had known me!

  “I was so shocked that you were here. I was afraid you were dead, but your name hadn’t come up on the lists of the deceased yet.”

  “I thought I could find out something about Lim Tian Ching,” I said. “But why are you here in the Lim mansion?”

  Auntie Three shrugged. “I was afraid if I went back to the house your father burned for me, looking the way I do now, the Third Concubine would know that I too had made a bargain with a demon. It wasn’t cheap. It cost me more than it cost her simply to save you. If she knew that I’d tried to help you, she might well try something else. So I wandered around, waiting for my time in the Plains of the Dead to be up. I worked in a few great houses in return for room and board.”

  “Why didn’t you travel to the world of the living to see me?” I asked.

  “I did. A few times only, until the journey became too difficult for me. Because I didn’t return to the house, I couldn’t accept any funeral offerings, which might have made it easier.” The matter of fact way in which my mother said this pierced me to the heart. “Eventually, either she or I would go on to the Courts of Judgment. And you were alive and doing well. Amah was taking good care of you. Can you believe that I’m now older than Amah is?” She gave me a watery smile.

  “But how did you come to the Lim mansion?”

  “I heard rumors about the young master and his obsession with the daughter of the Pan family.”

  “But you said you had been here for years!”

  “It has been years. Time passes strangely in this place.”

  I clasped her hands in mine.

  “Don’t be sad, Li Lan,” she said. “To see you, and speak to you, has been more than I could ever expect. But the night is passing. You must be on your way. I didn’t wish to burden you with this sad family history. I wanted you to live your life free from these old feuds.”

  “Come with me!” I said. “My horse can carry us both.”

  She shook her head. “I would slow you down. And it would be suspicious if I disappeared as well, especially if they started to dig further. Right now, they think you’re merely a distraction, the object of Lim Tian Ching’s desire.”

  “But I need you!” The words burst out before I even realized it.

  “You don’t need me, Li Lan,” she said. “You’re no longer a child. But you must go now. If they catch you it will be all for naught. Don’t let them capture you!” She grasped my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. I gazed into her rheumy eyes, the irises clouded with the bloom of old age, and understood with a shudder that she, more so than others, realized what it meant to be in the clutches of a demon.

  We hurried through the small back gate. Outside, all was dark and still. The road winding around the estate was deserted, a pale ribbon in the gathering dusk. My little horse stood outside, already caparisoned with saddlebags. When she saw me, she gave a soft whicker. “What’s this?” I asked as I touched the bags. They were stiff and bulky, bound with rope.

  “It’s meat. Not real meat, but the food of the dead,” said Auntie Three. “You may need it if they send pursuers. I pray that you will not.”

  “How did you know I would need it? Did Er Lang find you?”

  She nodded. “I was frightened when he appeared. But he said he was your friend. Otherwise I would never have known to get ready. That man—” Her voice trailed off.

  “He’s not human, I know that.”

  She looked relieved that I was at least aware of who I was consorting with. As I clambered onto Chendana, my mother fussed over the bags, tightening a girth here and repacking them. Her movements were so precise that I felt a tightness in my throat. How I had missed her! And yet, her method of packing and checking
was familiar. We had both been raised by Amah, after all.

  “Mother!” I said. She looked up. “Come with me,” I entreated again.

  She shook her head. “When all this is over, I’ll try to cross the plains and see you again.” I bent my head in sorrow, but she reached up and planted a dry, whispery kiss on my forehead. Her thin hand caressed my hair for a brief second, then Chendana leaped away, her hooves devouring the surface of the road. I turned behind me. My mother was a tiny figure standing in the road. Her stooped form, with one hand raised, receded rapidly into the gloaming until I could see her no more.

  Chapter 30

  I gave Chendana her head, telling her only to take me to the mouth of the tunnel. The streets of ghostly Malacca appeared and disappeared before my eyes; the houses faded in and out of one another like wraiths. At this time of night, some were darkened shells while others were lit with a blaze of lamps, as though grand parties were celebrated within. One house was on fire, but though flames licked the rafters, the framework of the house never collapsed. At one point, I could have sworn we galloped right by the Stadthuys, then turned a corner only to find ourselves advancing on it again. There was little traffic on the roads. The faces of the dead glanced at me as we passed them, some surprised, others bored and incurious. When we had passed the harbor, where ghost ships bobbed on a sea of grass, I became afraid that we would never be able to leave, but suddenly we were out on the endless plains again.

  A strong wind blew, chilling me through my inadequate clothing. How I wished now for some of the bulky garments that I had discarded! But Chendana was running like a horse that scents freedom. Her sturdy legs pounded the ground and the stiff grass flew by below us. Above was the dark vault of the sky. I could neither see nor hear any signs of pursuit, but a heavy dread lay upon my heart. Something was coming; it was only a matter of time before it found me. As we galloped tirelessly, I was aware of how easily we could be seen among the silvery dried grass. My thoughts flickered back to Tian Bai. I felt if only I could look into his eyes again, I would know what sort of person he was. It was no use telling myself I was being ridiculous; my heart refused to obey my mind. Indeed, the desire to see him seemed to grow in proportion with the suspicion that lay coiled within me.

  After a time I grew weary. Terrified of falling off, I wound my arms and legs through Chendana’s harness. I had been afraid that the weight of the bags would slow my little horse, but she didn’t seem to notice. I compared her speed with the sedate pace of Fan’s rickety bearers. Surely we were going twice, no, thrice as fast! At this rate, I might well catch up with her before she disappeared into the mouth of that tunnel. At some point I must have fallen asleep, for I was dimly aware of lying across Chendana’s back, my face buried in her sweetly scented mane.

  I was woken by a sudden jolt. Dazed, I raised my head, wondering whether we had arrived at our destination. A fine line of gray light showed on the horizon, like the embroidered border on a sleeve. The sea of brittle grass stalks moved restlessly in the wind. Ahead lay the mountains I remembered, where the passageway to the world of the living was. The dark jagged maw was visible, yet it was still so far away! I couldn’t understand why we had halted until I noticed the shimmering air in front. It thickened and curdled, just as it had in the Lim mansion. “Er Lang!” I cried. The air quivered, but nothing happened. I pulled out the scale and blew against its fluted edge. This time the vapors condensed into the familiar, bamboo-hatted figure. It stood for an instant, then crumpled forward.

  With a cry, I scrambled down from Chendana’s back. Up close, his clothing was scorched and the hem of his robe had been ripped away.

  “What happened to you?” I asked.

  “It appears that I overexerted myself,” he said.

  Despite his cool tone, he doubled over, pressing a hand to his side. There were ominous stains on his clothes and his forearms were scored with welts. As I stared at them, it occurred to me that his was the first blood that I had seen besides my own in the Plains of the Dead. Even Auntie Three (for I couldn’t help thinking of my mother by this name) had only pale, bloodless wounds when her arms had been burned.

  “Let me see,” I said, but he avoided me with a slight movement.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” he said sharply. “These are wounds of the spirit. I must get back to my body in order to heal them, and so should you. But that’s beside the point. You have very little time left. I delayed them as long as possible, but they are coming now.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” he said with irritation, “that you should get on that horse and ride as fast as possible. I managed to find your friend. She was about to enter the passageway, but I persuaded her to wait. She’s there now, can you see?”

  I squinted into the distance and saw, by the dark opening, a white speck that could have been Fan’s dress. “You went there and came back just to tell me that?”

  “Stop asking foolish questions and go!”

  “But what about you?”

  “I’ll stay in case they come.”

  “You can’t possibly stay here! You’re too weak.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

  Ignoring him, I glanced back at my little horse. “Help me!” I said to her. She came and knelt so that I could drag Er Lang across her back.

  “It will slow you down,” his voice was growing faint.

  “Then I’ll just get rid of this meat,” I said. Quickly, I dragged the saddlebags off, slashing at the knots with Er Lang’s scale. The sacks tumbled onto the ground and I began to shake them out, wincing at the bloodless joints of meat, offal, and flaps of skin that my mother had packed. I scattered them haphazardly, throwing some of the smaller pieces farther away. It occurred to me that I should keep a few of them with me just in case. Er Lang hadn’t said what was pursuing me, but I had an uneasy feeling that it might be carnivorous. Hastily, I scrambled onto Chendana’s back but as I did so, Er Lang began to slide off. I realized then that he had lost consciousness.

  “Get up!” I shrieked, dragging at his arms. “Hurry!”

  He grimaced but managed to hold on to the girths. Chendana began to gallop in earnest. I was thankful again that she was not a real horse. Her gait was steady enough so that I could just hang on to Er Lang as he slumped behind me. It was far more difficult than I had thought. He was heavier than me and kept sliding backward. I wound my arms around him, feeling the muscles of his lean torso tense in pain. It was then that I remembered the cords that had tied the saddlebags. Using a few lengths, I tied him as best as I could to myself, the ropes cutting in across my shoulders as we were bound back to back. Several times, I was sure that we would both fall off, but miraculously we remained seated.

  The mountains in front were clearer, but I realized that it was also because it was getting brighter. The cover of darkness that had felt so comforting was beginning to dissipate. It was hard to describe the agony of that ride. Er Lang must have fainted again, for he began to slip. With every jolt, I felt his limp body shift away and I strained to counterbalance his heavier weight. After a while, I felt a warm trickle on my neck and putting my hands up, found them stained with blood. For a moment I thought that the ropes had cut into my flesh, but it soon became apparent that it wasn’t my blood. He must have been more seriously wounded than I had thought. I reached behind me to grasp his waist and he came to with a cry of agony.

  “We must stop! You can’t travel like this!”

 
“I told you to leave me,” he said.

  “Can you go back? Can you disappear through the air again?” I shouted at him, against the rushing wind.

  “Not enough qi,” he mumbled. “Just dump me here.”

  “I won’t!”

  “You fool.”

  “Who’s the fool?” I said angrily. “You should just have gone away.”

  “Then you would have missed your friend Fan.”

  “Who cares?” I shrieked. “And take that stupid hat off! It’s cutting into my neck.”

  He began to laugh weakly. “What a harridan you are. How could I let you be devoured when there’s still so much scolding left in you?”

  “How dare you say that!” But I was secretly relieved that he could speak again. “Now take that hat off.”

  “If I remove it, you will never treat me the same way again.” His tone was so serious that I was afraid that I had offended him. My father too was wary of displaying his ruined face before strangers. Of all people, I should have been more sensitive to that. Er Lang seemed to have read my mind, for he didn’t speak again for a long time.

  The sky grew ever brighter as we rushed toward the cliffs ahead. “Hold on,” I said, “we’re nearly there.”

  “No.” Er Lang’s voice was dull. “It’s too late.”

  In terror, I twisted around. He was facing backward and I could see in the distance a dark cloud flying swiftly across the land. “What is it?” I asked.

  “They sent the birds. The flying beasts.”

  Far away I could see them gathering, those strange creatures that had flown over our camp that first night on the Plains of the Dead. I remembered how Fan had fallen to the ground, trembling and weeping at their approach, their swift flight slicing the air with triangular wings. At first they were no more than a faint cloud in the distance, but with frightening rapidity they began to advance, their forms becoming crisper and darker in the morning light.

  “Run! Run as fast as you can!” I cried to my horse.