by Kien Nguyen
“Which one of the devils are you?” Toan asked in his most intimidating voice. “Why are you disturbing my home?”
Big Con remained on the ground, covering his face in his hands. He was no longer screaming or cursing. The only sound that came out of his throat now was a soft and pitiful mewling. “Does the name Big Con sound familiar to you?” he moaned to the older man. “You killed me once in the past, Bastard Toan. Why don't you try it one more time, see if you can finish the job?”
Magistrate Toan cocked the muzzle of his gun toward Big Con's chest. His eyes narrowed into two thin slits. “Get off my land,” he warned the drunk.
Big Con pulled open his shirt. The sun shed its golden rays over the exposed flesh of his chest. He said to Toan, “If I die, I will become the most awful demon and forever haunt your family.”
The old man hesitated. One couldn't become a magistrate by being weak-minded.
He placed the handle of his gun against his lip and eased into an armchair. Under the shade of his tin roof, his face appeared as a blur among the shadows. Baring his sharp teeth against the steel pistol, he gave himself time to think. Things had changed since the days when he ruled this village. Now, even a soft-spoken coward like Con, the tutor, had become a monster, a potential killer.
Magistrate Toan formed his lips into a pleasing smile—with a little clever thinking, he had found a solution for his problem.
He would not take this lowly dog's life. Instead, he would make a killer out of him. With the right amount of persuasion, Big Con could help him take care of certain enemies, the ones that had power and positions in society. And if Con got killed, Magistrate Toan would be rid of the pest without dirtying his fingers. Either way, he would come out ahead. He was extremely satisfied with the splendor of his wit.
He said to the drunken man, “Oh, come now. I didn't recognize you. Why would I want to murder you, Teacher Con? You and I are bound by a dear and brotherly friendship, and I was stricken with grief over your unfortunate tribulation. When did you arrive in town? I am disappointed that you did not notify me sooner. I would have told the cook to prepare a feast for us. Fowls are extremely succulent at this time of year.”
“You are a snake,” Big Con snapped. “I am well aware of the sort of devil I have to deal with.”
“Please, don't use that language with an old friend.” Toan's charm was relentless. “Come inside. Sit next to me! Tell me what you want. Give your orders, and I will execute them.”
Big Con sat up. The alcohol had evaporated from his brain, and he felt a dull throbbing from his wounds. The pain made him weak at the knees. He yearned for more wine, the only thing that could make him strong and invincible again. “I came here to claim what is rightfully mine,” he said to the magistrate. “I want compensation for my incarceration.”
“How much do you want?” Magistrate Toan asked.
Big Con tried to think of the largest sum that he could. “Five silver dollars,” he said.
Magistrate Toan rested his gun on the floor next to his feet. He took his handkerchief, which he used to wrap his cash, from his pants pocket. Then, he held out five silver coins. They gleamed in his hand, beckoning. Big Con did not trust the old coyote enough to touch his money.
“It is all right,” the old man urged. “Take them. Like you said, they are your compensation.”
Big Con reached out his dirty hand, but the old man's reflex was faster. He folded his bony fingers to conceal the money and asked in a half-joking, bitter manner, “Are you certain that five dollars would be sufficient for your needs, Teacher Con? I suspect that if I give it to you, you will be back here tomorrow asking for more. I will not be the sort of bank that will grant you unlimited credit. Perhaps we will understand each other better if I ask you to come up with a bigger sum.”
Big Con swallowed hard before he answered. “Five silver coins are plenty, sir.”
Toan shook his head. “Let's fix a sum of fifty dollars to accommodate your drinking habit for the next thirty days. What would you do for that amount, Teacher Con?”
“Fifty?” gasped out Con. “Certainly I would do whatever you please for that much money.”
The magistrate released his hand, once again displaying the sparkling coins. Con touched them carefully. This time, the old man gave him the money and said, “There will be fifty silver coins for you in my house, in exchange for a small favor you can do for me. Do you remember Officer Dao, the man who arrested you nine years ago?”
Big Con nodded as his brain conjured up the image of the policeman.
Toan continued. “For some time now, this bastard has wanted to get rid of me. If I am dead, then no one will take care of you in this town. Do you understand me?”
“Say no more,” Big Con cried. “Consider that man a problem no longer, Sir Toan. I will take care of him.”
“Excellent. Make sure that he is dead,” said the old man.
The magistrate opened the gates and saw his guest out. As the drunken young man staggered back out on the street, Toan returned to his armchair. A smile darkened his gaunt face.
To get to the time-teller's cabin, Song led Ven and Dan for an hour along a path through a tangled thicket of bamboo. The rough and pointy leaves scratched at their faces like sharp fingernails, leaving red lines on their skin. Looking at Dan's sweaty face, Ven wished for a touch of wind to ward off the intense heat. At last they arrived in a rough clearing at the foot of the mountains.
Big Con's hut was located on a small hill, surrounded by an immense forest. Song signaled for Ven to follow her. They went around the cottage to enter through the rear, stepping over a narrow pasture of green grass.
As they emerged at the side of the humble dwelling, Ven took Dan by the hand. In front of them, the hut stood on four twisted, termite-eaten posts. Through a rectangular hole of a window, where a tattered drape fluttered, Ven saw that the house was dark and moldy. Cobwebs spread their grubby filaments over the entrance, and the sunlight danced across the fragile strings.
“Look over there,” Song said.
Following her glance, Ven saw the time-teller sprawled on the ground in front of his home. His mouth was wide open, showing a large coated tongue. He was snoring loudly. An empty wine bottle lay a few inches from his fingers. Ven's eyes stopped at his crotch, where the creased fabric was darkened with his waste.
Ven turned to Song. She felt the urge to flee, but one of her sandals got caught in the exposed root of a tree. She tripped, blurting out a startled sound. The time-teller opened his eyes and looked straight at her. His irises were the same color as his tongue, bleached and cloudy.
He hoisted himself up, grabbing the bottle by its neck and holding it in his hand like a weapon. Rage seeped into his eyes. The women pulled closer to each other. Dan, caught in their embrace, reached up to look over their arms.
The time-teller cleared his throat. In a rough voice, he asked, “What do you want? Why are you coming here to disturb me?”
A cloud of flies circled around his crotch. Their wings made a loud buzzing in the hot air. Big Con attempted to squash the bugs with his empty bottle. After a few tries, he lost his temper and smashed the bottle into a tree. Fragments of broken glass exploded onto the ground around his bare feet.
Ven stepped forward. “I came looking for the news,” she said. Her sharp voice grated on his nerves, but her open-palmed gesture told him that she was harmless.
He looked up into her face. The murkiness left his eyes, but he still wore a mask of somnolence. “It's you!” he said. “What do you want?”
Ven repeated, “I came here to get the news.”
“What kind of news?”
“About Master Tat Nguyen and his mistresses,” Song said.
Big Con brushed his hand in midair. “Get your gossip at the community hall like everybody else.”
Ven took another step forward. She was close enough to see the scars on his face. She pressed on. “I was told to come here. Please tell me if anything has
been posted since yesterday.”
Ven stood her ground. Their eyes locked for several seconds, then he shrugged and pushed his chest forward. With a manner as majestic as that of a king, he stretched his hand toward an oak tree at the side of his cabin. Several posters were pinned against its trunk. A few of them featured sketches of Master Tat and Lady Nan. Under the pictures, words written in black ink marched in neat rows. “Those are your news bulletins, madam,” he said. “They came this morning.”
“Can you tell me what they say, especially these?” Ven pointed at the papers that bore the portraits of her parents-in-law.
He shook his head. “I haven't read or written in several years. I don't remember much anymore. If you can't read, then get off my property.”
Ven reached for the posters. Her fingers picked at the nails that fixed them against the tree.
“What are you doing?” the time-teller yelled. His thunderous voice startled Dan into tears. Song held him in her arms.
“Since you are not going to tell me what is in the notices, I am taking them with me,” Ven said.
“Don't you dare leave with that announcement!” Big Con strode toward her with a warning look. Ven turned to him. The pine tree behind her had two branches, like arms extending right and left, seeming to block her path. She leaned back against its trunk as fear rose to her chest.
“Please, don't hurt me,” she whispered to him. “I just want to get the information on these posters. What can I do to make you help me?”
He halted in his track, thinking for a moment before he said to her, “I miss the company of the Wine Fairy. For ten copper pennies, I'll read you the notice.”
Ven reached inside the cord of her belt, where she kept her money. Her hand found the warm metallic coins, slippery in her own sweat. The money was strung into a loop, all pennies. Under her fingers, they made a clinking sound as they moved against one another. Big Con's eyes lit up, and with his clenched fists, he seemed to be fighting the urge to snatch the cash.
Ven counted her money slowly and carefully several times. Then she looked up. “I only have eight pennies.” She opened her hand to show him her cache.
Big Con swallowed. Golden beams of sunlight danced on his shaven head as he seized the money. “Move away,” he said. “How can I read when you are blocking my view?” He pushed her aside.
Big Con came closer to the announcements, his nose only inches from the tree. He squinted and scratched his hairless skull, stammering over each syllable like a young pupil reciting a difficult poem for the first time in front of a strict teacher.
“Cap-tured Re-bels,” he began. “From-the-Court-of-Hue-came-this-an-nounce-ment-”
As he read on, the time-teller seemed to adjust to the strange characters on the paper. He delivered the message faster and with more confidence. “This day, the second of April of the Dragon Year (lunar calendar), known in the Western calendar as the third of May, 1916, it was revealed that a group of rebels had persuaded our young emperor, King Duy Tan, to escape the Purple Forbidden City. At first, these radicals pretended to fish at Hau Ho, forging palace passes to visit the emperor. Then they docked their boat in Thuong Bac to receive His Royal Highness. As of today, the Imperial Court has not been able to ascertain the emperor's whereabouts. The leaders of the rebel group, Thai Phien, Le Ngung, Tran Cao Van, Phan Thanh Thai, and Vo Van Tru had plotted against the French protectorate over Vietnam. They should not have involved our young king. His Majesty has not yet seen his sixteenth birthday, far from the maturity needed to make decisions to move mountains and conquer seas. Other rebels in the same group have been arrested, including Tat Nguyen, the captain of a Cam Le fishing boat, and his two mistresses, Nan Nguyen and Ly Nguyen. They will be given the death penalty. The executions will be carried out in their hometown two weeks from this day. This action is intended to show other rebels that the Court at Hue is intolerant of insurgents of any kind—”
Ven turned grayer than the bark of the tree against which she leaned to keep herself from falling. “Impossible! Utterly impossible!”
Big Con continued to read. “Upon searching the Lady Yen, thirty large gunpowder packages were found in the lower compartment—” He scrutinized Ven's face. “What does this mean?” he demanded. The drunkenness had completely vanished from his eyes.
“I think I have gone mad,” Ven muttered. Then, pushing herself away from the tree, she grabbed Dan in her arms and ran down the hill. Song chased after her.
The time-teller sniffed his string of coins and watched his visitors disappear into the thicket of bamboo leaves. He sucked his teeth noisily and mumbled, “Where is that cursed wineshop? I need a refill.”
chapter five
Inferno
It was dark when the two women and their young charge turned into the lane that served as a shortcut to the main gate of Master Nguyen's house. As the last streak of daylight disappeared, the moon rose on the opposite side of the sky, as if trying to outshine the sun. Despite their combined glow, the evening was gloomy. Clouds hovered overhead. Between the chrysanthemums and orchids along the side of the road, the twittering of crickets sounded.
As they approached the house, Ven saw a carriage, drawn by a pair of auburn horses, parked outside the main gate. She recognized the beautiful animals as Master Nguyen's pride and joy, to be used only for special occasions. Ven imagined her parents-in-law sitting on their expensive divan in their living room, and a sense of relief washed through her. She watched as one of the horses neighed, while the other pounded its hooves on the gravel.
The granite gates rolled on their hinges. Standing in the opening was Third Mistress. In her arms she clutched a small box. Her lute hung on a strap on her back, vibrating with each step she took. A coachman jumped from his seat to assist her. Ven saw that it was the young gardener. The handsome couple stepped through the gates, which closed on their wheels, making little sound.
Noticing Ven, the gardener looked terrified. He pushed the Third Mistress inside the carriage and hopped into the driver's seat, yanking the pole that guided the animals to urge them into motion. Lady Yen's embarrassed face peeked out the window of the carriage as it began to move.
“Stop!” Ven called to them. “Where are you going?”
Her voice disappeared down the empty street without an echo. The carriage picked up speed, and Ven saw that the driver was having trouble managing the spirited animals. They pulled at the pole, straining each time he cracked his whip.
Ven understood the horses. She had tended them in the stable for the last few months, brushing and feeding them. That wasn't the way to handle them, she thought. She pushed Dan into Song's bosom. “Hold him,” she said to the maid.
Before Song could react, Ven charged after the fleeing coach. Her stride was strong, and soon she was abreast of the horses. The gardener slapped harder at the lead, pushing them to a more furious speed. Still, Ven held her pace.
“Go away!” he screamed at her. “Stop chasing us!”
Anger fed her determination. She rushed past the two horses, reached out, and seized the closer animal's ears, allowing it to drag her along.
The gardener turned the whip on his pursuer, hoping she would give up the chase. The first lash unraveled the knot of her hair. His next blow struck her head, then another landed on her back.
Ven felt the rough leather's sting ripping her skin every time it touched her. Blood ran down her face, blurring her vision, filling her mouth with the metallic taste she knew so well. Gritting her teeth, she tightened her grip on the horse's ears. The animal snorted with pain, and its forelegs buckled. Its sudden halt jerked the second horse back. The pole that connected the two animals snapped in half as the carriage swerved to a stop.
With nothing to break her momentum, Ven shot forward like a cannonball. She rolled over twice before landing facedown in the road, limp.
Once the adrenaline subsided, pain and dizziness overwhelmed her. Blood dripped into her eyes, and the clouds of dirt raised by t
he carriage obscured her vision. From somewhere behind her, Ven could hear Lady Yen wailing.
She got to her feet and limped toward the noise. Her skin was scratched and torn, but as far as she could tell, no bones were broken. Through her tangled hair, she saw the moon peeking between the clouds, whitening the rock-strewn road. About ten feet away, the gardener was removing the broken implement from between the horses. Ven strode to the carriage and raised her voice over the sharp weeping of Third Mistress.
“Why are you running away with that man?” she asked her mother-in-law. “They are going to behead half of your family in two weeks. What am I going to do with your son?”
“What else am I to do?” Third Mistress pleaded through the carriage window. Her hands grasped the bars so tightly that her knuckles were white. “I heard about the news soon after you left. Surely the police will kill me, too, if I remain in that house. They will find me guilty by association. You are not a stupid person; you know I am too young to die a virtuous death like a proper wife. It wasn't in my contract with the Nguyen family. My son is now your husband. My duty to tend him ceased the day he married you. Ven, the boy is your responsibility, not mine. Let us go in peace, I beg you.”
From the front of the carriage, the gardener's head poked into the passenger compartment. “Time to leave,” he said.
Lady Yen pulled a silk handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it to her eyes. A beautiful fragrance emanated from its fragile tissue, making Ven swoon. She found it difficult to argue with her mother-in-law. Words seemed to fail her every time the lovely young woman looked at her with her mournful eyes. And her language! Ah, Lady Yen was an eloquent speaker. Words streamed from her mouth as smoothly as oil poured into a lantern.
“Take this jade and my lute.” Lady Yen took off her gold necklace and handed it to Ven, along with the delicate instrument, through the carriage door. Curiously, Ven inspected the gold chain. It was finely made but secondary in beauty to the round piece of jade, the size of a Chinese penny, that hung from it. The stone's surface glowed in the moonlight. In its center was a fine mesh of gold lattice woven together to form a Chinese character.