“Who?” Saint-Germain whispered to his servant.
“I don’t know.” Rogerio had moved toward the door.
“I have my knife if it is necessary,” Saint-Germain said in a low voice as he nodded to Rogerio to open the door.
The figure in the hall was squat and powerful. Stumpy round legs were made more formidable by thick, fur-lined boots that ended just below the knee with heavy, loose leggings. Two layers of long-sleeved tunics lent him some of the aspect of a bear, though his scantily toothed smile was amiable enough. His obsidian eyes, sunk in deep folds, shifted quickly from Rogerio to Saint-Germain and the knife in his hand. The stranger made a gesture that implied approval. “You are the foreigners desiring to enter T’u-Bo-T’e?”
Saint-Germain lowered the knife but did not put it down. “It is possible that we are,” he murmured.
“Then it is possible that I am the one you seek.” His accent was thick but not incomprehensible. He had some of the manner of an educated man, though none of the refinement.
Rogerio opened the door so that the stranger could enter. He selected the one of the three chairs nearest the window, as if he wished to be assured of an escape route.
“If we are these foreigners,” Saint-Germain said, taking the chair opposite the one in which the stranger sat, “why should you think that you more than another would be of use to us?”
The man hawked and spat, looking narrowly at Saint-Germain. “If you are the foreigners, you would want to hire a guide who has made the journey into the Land of Snows by more roads than one, and to more places than one city.”
“Why would that be so?” Saint-Germain asked politely.
“Because there are many hazards in the mountains, and many of them walk on two legs. Also, if the snows come, it is necessary to know which passes are traversable and which are not. It is getting late in the year for such a journey, good foreigners, and if you are the ones seeking to go, it would be wise to begin as soon as possible.” He had hooked his thumbs into the wide leather belt he wore and he studied Saint-Germain with open curiosity.
“Why do you stare at me?” Saint-Germain inquired, though he was more amused than offended.
“You are a foreigner. Your skin, your eyes, the way you talk, how you move. I have seen those from Tien-Du and from the wild lands far to the north, but never have I seen a man like you. Your servant, too, with hair the color of ash wood … Most unusual.” He leaned back and waited.
“Foreigners are often at a disadvantage,” Saint-Germain said with a glance at Rogerio. “In their gullibility, they allow clever and villainous men to lead them into the remote mountains, where they are set upon by the companions of the unprincipled guide.”
The stranger nodded. “Often it has happened thus, and those who are honest decry it, for we are painted in the same dishonored colors.”
The man was, Saint-Germain decided, a runaway Buddhist priest. His language and attitude, though roughened with his occupation, had enough of the monastery flavoring that it was still detectable after what Saint-Germain guessed to be the passage of several years. He bowed very slightly. “I am known here as Shih Ghieh-Man, which is not unlike my name in my own tongue. My servant is a native of Gades, a distant city on a great sea. We desire to go into T’u-Bo-T’e at once. I am prepared to pay well for a trustworthy man to guide us.”
“It is an honor to meet so distinguished a foreigner,” the stranger said with the remnant of trained courtesy. “This humble person has the family name of Tzoa and the personal name of Lem. It has been his livelihood for many years to guide merchants and teachers through the mountains. If you question this, Shih Ghieh-Man, you may send your servant to ask, at whatever place he wishes, of the truth of this.”
Rogerio interrupted. “How are we to know that the tavern-keepers are not in your pay, willing to tell us whatever will be advantageous to you?”
“The servant is keen-minded,” Tzoa Lem remarked to Saint-Germain. “It could happen thus. Do not confine yourself to the taverns and inns. Ask at the stables and the temples. You will learn that it is as I say.”
“He’s engaging, whatever else he may be,” Saint-Germain said to Rogerio in Greek.
“That does not necessarily accrue to his benefit,” Rogerio responded in the same language. “I will ask at the places he suggests, and in other places as well.”
“What tongue is that?” Tzoa Lem demanded. “I think I have never heard it before.”
Saint-Germain continued in Chinese. “It is a language of the West, old by their standards, somewhat younger by yours.” He paused before saying, “Tzoa Lem is not … usual. The sounds are not of the Four Tones, and the syllables are not familiar.”
“The Four Tones!” Tzoa Lem scoffed. “That is for those caviling swine in the capital. Here we keep to the true old words, not these flowery, impossible phrases.”
“Of course,” Saint-Germain soothed. “You will forgive my ignorance. Those who come from distant lands do not always have the opportunity to study as comprehensively as might be wise.”
Tzoa Lem was somewhat mollified. “Well, there are more than enough men of this country who haven’t your excuse and still keep to the Four Tones.” He looked up at Saint-Germain. “I don’t wish to force you to a hasty decision,” he said carefully, “but perhaps I should tell you that in five days I will go into the mountains, whether you or anyone else accompanies me.”
“I see. Five days.” Saint-Germain tapped the knife on the palm of his hands. “What would such a journey require in preparation?”
“Oh, that varies, depending on your needs. Food we must have, and animals to take your belongings over the passes. Oxen do well enough on the plains, but are useless in the mountains. Ponies, if they are bred for the work, can go quite a distance in the mountains. There are those who prefer dogs and goats, and each animal has its virtue.” He put his hands flat on the arms of the chair. “Animals must be fed, which you will have to consider when you make your purchases.”
“Since you are the one who has traveled the way,” Saint-Germain said respectfully, “you would be the most knowledgeable, and I hope that you would advise me. If you had to outfit this journey, what would you do?”
“For three men?” He shrugged. “Food, shelter, clothing, whatever goods you are carrying, fodder for the animals, strings of cash, weapons; all would be needed.”
This lackadaisical manner affronted Rogerio, but Saint-Germain persisted. “And what beasts would you purchase?”
“It would depend on how much you had to carry.” Tzoa Lem gave the chests a calculating stare and looked pointedly back at Saint-Germain.
“Yes, these chests are a part of it. There are four of them. The fourth”—he indicated the Roman chest—“is somewhat smaller but not significantly lighter. They are all fairly heavy and bulky, but that cannot be helped.”
Tzoa Lem pulled at the scrawny mustache that blurred his upper lip. “They will be a problem. You will have to allow for them in calculating the climb and daily progress. Such burdens will slow us down, but if there is no alternative, then…” He lifted his shoulders to show his resignation.
“How much of a difference could such a burden make?” Saint-Germain asked.
“It would depend. If there is rain, it is an inconvenience, but if there is snow, that’s another matter. At a guess, I would say that such burdens might well turn three days into four. It will depend on the sort of animals you choose to carry them.” His black eyes twinkled. “There are some Spiti ponies that can be bought at a reasonable price. They are your best choice, but they are not cheap, and they must be fed. They are slow at lower altitudes, but once we reach the first crest, they will be brisker.” He gave Saint-Germain another one of his measuring looks. “They eat coarse barley gruel made with lamb broth. They’re used to having a little meat with their food and do not do well without it.”
Saint-Germain had heard rumors of such ponies, but had not been certain he believed the reports until
this moment. “I assume we will be able to hunt as we go.” It would be necessary for Rogerio to hunt, of that he was certain.
“If that is your wish,” Tzoa Lem said after a slight hesitation. “Many travelers do not like to take such a chance.”
“And prefer sickness from rancid meat to one day of poor hunting? An odd economy, I should have thought.” Saint-Germain tucked his knife into the wide belt he wore. “How many of these ponies will we need?”
“One for each of us to ride. That is essential, believe me. One for each of the trunks. One for relief. One for other baggage. That means nine.”
“What will nine Spiti ponies cost?” Saint-Germain inquired as if the matter were of little interest to him.
“That depends upon who buys them. If you buy them, perhaps ten strings of silver cash, but that will include the pack saddles and the rest of their tack. If I buy them, perhaps six or seven strings of silver cash, including not only tack but part of their feed.”
Which, Saint-Germain assumed, meant that Tzoa Lem would reserve one of the strings of cash for himself. However, even allowing for this, it was undoubtedly cheaper and would gain him the respect of the guide. “You are the one who has experience in these things, and since I am as a beginning student, I entrust myself to you. By all means, purchase the ponies. I should warn you that I have some knowledge of horses and ponies. Don’t think to fob broken-down animals off on me.”
“I’d have to be a fool to do that,” Tzoa Lem said. “Since I’m going with you, I’d risk as much as you.”
“There is that,” Saint-Germain agreed urbanely, knowing that a man leading others into a trap might give himself away with inferior animals, obviously never intended to finish the journey.
“You may inspect them before I pay the final fees,” the guide added. “It might be wise if you did, if, as you say, you know something of horses and ponies.” He paused, staring reflectively at the far side of the room. “My fee to guide you to Lhasa, which is the main city of T’u-Bo-T’e, will be four strings of cash in gold. I will not haggle about the sum. You will find no other guide as capable as I am, and none more honest. Consider that.” He lumbered to his feet. “I will expect to have the first two strings before we leave, the last two when we arrive. Expenses at inns along the way—although I warn you now that they are few—will be paid by you. Do you agree?”
“If those are your conditions, I accept them.” Saint-Germain bowed very slightly. He stood aside to allow Tzoa Lem the opportunity to reach the door.
“Tomorrow I will ask you to inspect the ponies,” Tzoa Lem announced, then went on somewhat more petulantly. “You will have to inform me what quality and quantity of food you wish me to purchase.”
“You may safely leave that to me,” Saint-Germain said with a singular expression that was not quite a smile and yet showed his small, even teeth.
“That’s up to you.” The guide bowed as deeply as his heavy clothing permitted, then let himself out of the room.
Saint-Germain held up one hand to silence Rogerio’s objections until the heavy tread of the guide faded on the stairs, and then he said softly, “Follow him. Don’t let him see you.”
Rogerio nodded. “He will not lose me.”
“By tomorrow, we should know with whom we are dealing,” Saint-Germain observed to Rogerio as the servant slipped, unnoticed by any other guest, into the hall.
Text of a letter from Kuan Sun-Sze in Lo-Yang to Saint-Germain at the Mao-T’ou stronghold. The letter was impounded by officers of the Magisterial Tribunal of Lo-Yang as evidence in their investigation.
On the eleventh day of the Fortnight of the Autumnal Fogs, in the Year of the Ox, the Fourteenth Year of the Sixty-fifth Cycle, to the learned foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man, now in the Shu-Rh District in the employ of the Warlord T’en Chih-Yü at Mao-T’ou stronghold.
This respectful person must perform a most disgraceful duty: with this letter, he must, most regretfully, sever all relations with the stranger Shih Ghieh-Man. He cannot tell in any words how much he wishes it were otherwise. He has struggled with the August Voices of Authority and earned himself the censure and general odium of his colleagues. Consensus would not be enough to sway the personal loyalty of Kuan Sun-Sze—he beseeches the foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man to believe this, though there is little to support this assertion. Sadly, it is the decision of the Magisterial Tribunal of Lo-Yang that requires such action of this person, and he must bow his head to their urgings. Indeed, he must bow his head in more than one way.
Perhaps the foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man recalls a reckless and ill-considered act that this person perpetrated not so many months ago. The act alluded to here was the foolhardy act of placing the various records of the foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man in the archives without obtaining the approval of the various officials of the university. At the time, it seemed to this person that he was serving the interests of learning, but he now realizes that he was acting in an improper and dangerous way, and that it was contrary to the benefits of the Empire that he should do this thing, and he is most heartily sorry for his rash and inexcusable act.
The foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man will understand that though this person does not diminish the worth of their former association, he is aware that it is not appropriate for the association to continue. Not only is this Empire under threat of attack from the Mongol Jenghiz Khan, but there are personal obligations that each man has to the sanctity of his family. In putting a foreigner’s friendship before the good of his sons and brothers, this person has shown himself to be beneath reproach and guilty of the most reprehensible conduct. If the dictates of filial piety teach us nothing else, they should instill in us all a responsibility to all those who share our blood. Though the foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man has professed himself to be aware of these ties, he is not a follower of the dictates of Kung Fu-Tzu, and for that reason, may not wholly comprehend how far this person has transgressed the tenets. It is true enough that for many years this person was seduced away from these teachings by following the words of the despicable Taoists. He was not aware until recently how pernicious their creeds are, and what chaos they lead us to.
Doubtless the foreigner wonders how it came about that this person became aware of his failings. Certainly it is appropriate that an explanation be offered.
When the documents in the archives were discovered, there was a great furor in the university and there were a great many unfounded rumors spread abroad. As it was implied that the records were placed there by sorcery, and since sorcery is a capital offense, the death penalty was given the missing foreigner, to run from this time until the phoenix rises. When this person, distressed to hear his friend maligned, approached the Magisterial Tribunal and admitted what he had done, he was most strictly admonished by the officers, who were not inclined to see the value of the records in precisely the same light that this person did.
In order to spare his family any greater embarrassment and to remove the terrible blot which he has seen tarnish his own life, but which has discolored and blackened the repute of those closest and most dear to him, this person has decided on a gesture that will ensure a measure of expiation. Surely the foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man recalls the experiments that were conducted under his instruction in the Year of the Monkey. At that time there were occasional procedural errors which resulted in the substances in question being rendered unsuitable for use. As the foreigner may remember, a few of these substances were preserved, for though they were corrosive, yet they could be contained in various specially designed vessels which the foreigner was good enough to provide for that purpose. The foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man will be interested, for his own sake, perhaps, that there is a use for these substances, and that it is preferable to allowing others to select the time, the method and the place.
This person hopes that the foreigner will not think too harshly of him, for all he has said here is predicated on the obligations and responsibilities of those fortunate enough to have an honored name. He assures Shih Ghieh-Man that the
end of their friendship is necessary.
From his own hand, and with his chop,
Kuan Sun-Sze
2
Rubble blocked the narrow road, and ten paces beyond, most of the side of the mountain had been carried away by the avalanche.
“There’s no going over it or under it or around it, not on this trail,” Tzoa Lem said mournfully. “It happened recently—see where the rocks cut over the grass and moss? The moss regrows quickly, very quickly. This happened, at the most, two days ago. Probably during that heavy rain.”
Saint-Germain stared at the bend up ahead where the road resumed, as if he could bridge the distance with the power of his eyes. They had been on the road for six days, and each day they covered less ground. It was cold at these elevations, and the storms that swept through the mountains were wild. They had experienced three storms so far, and from the way clouds were gathering overhead, another would be on them by nightfall. “Very well. What must we do?” Saint-Germain sounded neither angry nor discouraged. He looked at the guide expectantly, and the squat man on his equally squat pony sighed.
“There are other ways, of course. At midafternoon, we passed a road, do you recall?”
“Yes.”
Tzoa Lem made an unhappy sound. “That is another way. Very steep. There are many rocks.”
“As there are here,” Saint-Germain said patiently. “No way will be without them.”
“Yes,” the guide agreed as he turned in his saddle to look back at the string of ponies he led. Rogerio was mounted on the last of these. He was bundled in a cloak of firecat pelts and was bone-weary from the days in the saddle.
“Master,” Rogerio called, “do you wish to try to cross the slope? With caution and enough ropes, it might be managed.”
“I don’t think so,” Saint-Germain called back, and was startled to hear a spatter of rocks on the swath. “No. It isn’t steady enough. It’s too likely to shift underfoot.”
Path of the Eclipse Page 19
