Jeff Stone_Five Ancestors 04

by Crane

  “Who are we fighting?” Fu asked.

  “That hasn't been determined yet,” Long said. “You won't know until they lead you into the pit. Now, I suggest you start practicing. Don't wear yourselves out, though. Go easy.”

  “Go easy?” Malao said, rubbing his head. “When are we fighting?”

  Long frowned. “Tonight.”

  “Look at this,” AnGangseh said, pointing to a posting on the Jinan wharf bulletin board. “You were right. HaMo brought the boys here.”

  “It says the fights are tonight,” Tonglong said, scanning the announcement. “It's already getting dark. We had better hurry.”

  “Do you remember how to get there?” AnGangseh asked.

  “Of course,” Tonglong said. “It's only been two years since I won the Grand Championship here.”

  AnGangseh grinned. “Your performance that night was unforgettable. Perhaps you can use sssome of those sssame techniques on your brother, Ssseh?”

  “We'll see if he's here,” Tonglong said. “He may not have survived the river.”

  “He sssurvived,” AnGangseh said. “The girl went after him. She is ssstrong, I can tell. She is sssmart, too—and lucky. I have a feeling they will both be at the fight club.”

  Tonglong tugged on the tiny green crane around his neck. “Perhaps we should have finished off her and Seh when we had the chance.”

  “What's past is past,” AnGangseh said. “Don't give it a sssecond thought. If she is at the fight club, you will get your chance. That is, unless I get my hands on her first. Let's go. I have had enough of these children from Cangzhen.”

  It took Hok, Seh, and Charles until early evening to get to the Jinan Fight Club. The distance wasn't too great, but the city was incredibly crowded—even more so than Kaifeng. Hok had never seen so many people.

  The going was also slower with Seh on Hok's arm. Seh did a superb job of staying on his feet, but every step they took took longer than it would have if Seh had been his old self. Hok tried not to think about it, but she decided that Seh had been right. His mother had to be worse than her father ever could be.

  Once they finally got into the fight club line, it was another three hours before they reached the front door. It seemed the men guarding the entrance were very particular about who they let in, and they took their time making their decisions. Hok saw far more people turned away than let in.

  Hok adjusted the elegant turban on her head and straightened her dress, shifting her bag full of herbs directly in front of her so that she could keep a close eye on it once they got inside. Charles had guaranteed that they wouldn't be turned away. She hoped he was right.

  Hok glanced down at Seh's bulging midsection. He had several lengths of rope wrapped around his waist beneath his gray robe that served to both disguise his physique and, hopefully, aid in their rescue attempt. Seh's snake was a barely noticeable lump coiled around his left forearm, beneath his sleeve. Hok looked at the large hat Seh still wore pulled low across his brow and doubted either she or Seh would be recognized in their headwear, which made them both look much older than twelve. Still, she hoped age wasn't a consideration for entry here.

  It turned out age wasn't an issue for them getting in, nor was anything else. Charles had Seh's coin pouch tied to his own sash, and he handed the guard at the door ten times the normal entry fee. They were allowed inside without any questions. Charles then handed more money to a seating attendant.

  The three of them were led deep into the crowded fight club, down a series of tiered sections that sank lower and lower toward a large circular hole in the center of the room. Seh took Hok's arm and remained glued there, doing an admirable job of weaving around tables, chairs, and, most of all, groups of people dressed in fine silk robes and fancy hats. Fortunately, some crowd members wore simple gray peasant's robes like Seh was wearing. They all fit in just fine.

  As they walked, Hok noticed that Charles hadn't uttered a single word. He had told her earlier that “money talks” in Jinan and that foreign merchants often try to earn trading rights with local businessmen by treating them to extravagant nights at the fight club. Charles had also said that they would be sure to see several tables of Chinese men accompanied by one or two “round eyes,” usually a foreign ship captain plus his cabin boy or servant. Hok did see several examples of this throughout the room, and she knew that it would work to their advantage. Charles could sit with them without raising any eyebrows.

  Their final destination was a choice table on the very edge of the fighting pit. Charles nodded to the attendant as if pleased, and handed over even more money. The attendant nodded back, and left.

  Hok found herself at the heart of the Jinan Fight Club. She quickly scanned the room. Small wooden tables draped in blood-red silk ringed the enormous round fighting pit, with larger silk-covered tables radiating outward and upward on the tiered wooden floor all the way to the building's tapestry-covered walls. An oil lamp sat on every table, giving the entire room an orange glow. Torches protruding from the pit's inner walls added additional light to the fighting area, as well as a fair amount of black smoke.

  Hok noticed that the lamps on several tables were not burning. The effect left the people sitting at those tables in relative obscurity. She liked that. Hok blew out the oil lamp on their table and helped Seh sit down. Charles excused himself to get something for them to eat from a nearby vendor, and Hok took a seat next to Seh.

  Hok folded her arms, resting them on a thick metal railing that surrounded the fighting pit, and looked down into the pit for the first time. It was enormous, as deep as four men were tall, and formed a perfect circle. Hok guessed it was at least fifty paces across. The sides and bottom were covered with rough bricks, and there was a large door at one end. The door was closed.

  “What does the pit look like?” Seh asked.

  “It's deep,” Hok replied.

  Seh tapped his bulging midsection and lowered his voice. “Do you think the rope is long enough? It wraps around my waist seven times.”

  “The rope definitely won't reach the bottom of the pit,” Hok replied, “but it still might work. Fu and Malao can jump and probably reach it. That is, if we even get a chance to throw it to them.”

  “We've come this far,” Seh said. “We need to at least try and help them escape.”

  “I agree,” Hok said.

  Charles returned carrying three small drinking bowls of fruit juice and three bundles of sticky rice wrapped in lotus leaves, all on a tray. He set the tray on the table and plopped down in his chair, handing the pouch of coins to Seh. “I can't believe I just spent the equivalent of two years’ wages.”

  “You did use a lot of coins,” Seh said, weighing the bag in his hand. “Thanks. It's very difficult for me, not being able to see.”

  “No problem,” Charles said. “It made more sense for me to handle everything anyway, with the color of my skin and all. It's supposed to look like I'm treating you.” He paused. “If you don't mind my asking, where did you get all that money?”

  “From my father,” Seh replied, tying the pouch to his sash. “Is there much left?”

  “No,” Charles said. “But I was thinking, you could bet some of it on Fu and Malao. If the odds are good and they win, you could get all your money back, and more.”

  “That's a good idea,” Seh said, “but I don't plan to stick around long enough to collect the winnings. I'll just hang on to what we have. The funny thing is, this money is winnings from a different fight Malao was in.”

  Charles’ eyebrows raised. “Really? I never heard this story.”

  “Another time,” Seh said. “We should keep our talking to a minimum.”

  “Right,” Charles said. He looked over toward the back corner of the fight club, and Hok followed his gaze. There were a large number of people crowded around a small table.

  “I think I'll go take a look at the bettors’ table,” Charles said. “Maybe I can find out when Fu and Malao are fighting.”

&nbs
p; “Good idea,” Hok replied.

  Charles stood and Hok watched him walk over to the cluster of people who were exchanging strings of coins for bamboo sticks with writing on them. As Charles began to muscle his way into the group, a door opened off to one side of the bettors’ table. Out walked HaMo with a fistful of wager sticks. Behind him was a tall, thin man with a large pointy nose, short greasy hair, and tiny, perky ears. There was no doubt this man was LaoShu—Rat.

  Behind LaoShu came ten soldiers with qiangs, surrounding an additional person. Hok couldn't see who it was, but he—or she—was obviously very important. Hok also couldn't help but notice a soldier in the group who stood at least three heads taller than everyone else in the room. Hok had seen extraordinarily large men before, including Hung and Mong, but this soldier dwarfed them all. She could hardly believe he was human. He had wide, thick shoulders, long black hair, and an expressionless gaze as cold as stone.

  People in the crowd began to notice LaoShu and the soldiers, and the fight club fell silent. The cluster of bettors even quieted down.

  HaMo separated from the group and sat alone at a small table in back with his back to the wall. LaoShu and the soldiers walked down several tiers toward a long empty table at the edge of the pit, opposite Hok and Seh. As the group slowly descended, people began to whisper excitedly.

  Hok watched the group, and they soon descended to a point where Hok could catch a glimpse of the important person. It was a man, and he was wearing a brilliant yellow robe as bright as the sun. Only one person in all of China was allowed to wear a yellow robe—the Emperor.

  A small drum sounded, and all eyes turned anxiously to LaoShu, who had reached the edge of the pit. The Emperor sat down, and the enormous man took the seat to the Emperor's right. A different soldier sat down in the chair to the Emperor's left, and Hok's heart skipped a beat. She recognized the man's bald head and bushy eyebrows. It was General Tsung.

  “Seh!” Hok whispered. “General Tsung is here! So is the Emperor! They're sitting directly across the pit from us.”

  Seh frowned. “I'll be sure to keep my head down.”

  “Me too,” Hok said, pulling her turban low on her forehead. “I wonder who else will show up.”

  “I don't even want to think about it,” Seh replied.

  Charles rushed back over to their table and sat down. “LaoShu is about to make the opening announcements,” he said.

  LaoShu cleared his throat and began to speak loudly in a squeaky, high-pitched voice.

  “Welcome, everyone, to my world-famous Jinan Fight Club! I hope you're enjoying our hospitality. Tonight we have what may be our most impressive lineup ever, both inside the pit and out. I'd like to begin by welcoming the most distinguished guest to ever grace this humble establishment. Ladies and gentlemen, pay your respects to our beloved Emperor! Kowtow!”

  The crowd members, including LaoShu, dropped to their knees.

  “Seh, kneel,” Hok whispered, and she helped Seh to the floor. They both knocked their foreheads against the ground three times, as did Charles. Their respects complete, Hok helped Seh back into his chair, and she sat down between Seh and Charles.

  In front of the pit, LaoShu stood and continued the announcements.

  “It is both an honor and a pleasure for me to announce two additional guests, neither of whom is a stranger to this arena. First is a man who achieved special notoriety within the Emperor's ranks in an impressively short period of time. Everyone, show your appreciation for the Fight Club Grand Champion of China from several years ago—General Tsung, the Leopard Monk!”

  Applause erupted from the audience, and Tsung stood and bowed. Several people from the crowd pointed at him and waved. Others pointed toward the giant sitting to the Emperor's right.

  “I see several of you have already spotted our third distinguished guest,” LaoShu announced. “He really stands out in a crowd, if you know what I mean! He's another former Grand Champion, who also happens to be the Emperor's chief security officer and personal bodyguard. Ladies and gentlemen, the most dangerous man to ever grace our pit—Xie, the Scorpion!”

  The crowd's cheering was even louder and more frenzied for Xie, and Seh leaned over in Hok's general direction. “What does this Scorpion look like?” he asked.

  “Trouble,” Hok replied.

  The crowd began to quiet down, and LaoShu clapped his hands. “I told you tonight was going to be special! Now, just listen to what will be happening inside the pit. Not one, but two Enemies of the State will face the consequences for their treasonous actions before your very eyes. We also have a handful of lesser criminals, all of whom have promised they'll not go down without a fight. As for your local heroes, you'll see many of your favorites tonight, including the top contender to represent Jinan in the upcoming championships—the young wonder who calls himself the Golden Dragon. What do you think about that!”

  The crowd began to cheer and yell and stomp their feet. Hok watched a huge toothy smile spread across LaoShu's face.

  “I hope you've placed your wagers,” LaoShu announced, “because betting on this first bout is about to close. Wagering odds for the upcoming bouts can be found at the bettors’ table. As always, once the gong sounds, the action will officially begin and all betting on that bout will cease. And now, it is with great excitement that I bring you the first bout of the evening! It will feature two hardened criminals making their inaugural appearances here on the road to possible freedom. First into the pit is a powerhouse from the northernmost regions. He needs little introduction from me. His physique speaks for itself! Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear some applause for the Mongolian Mauler!”

  The large door inside the pit flew open and Hok watched a tall, thick-muscled man with short black hair walk proudly into the pit wearing only a heavy loincloth. The crowd clapped its approval.

  LaoShu continued. “The challenger hails from a foreign land known as Siam. He's a small man with a big heart. Don't let his size fool you. His techniques are as exotic as his language. Everyone, get ready for the Siamese Assassin!”

  Hok saw a thin, wiry young man dance into the pit through the open doorway. His hair was also short, but unlike the Mauler, his skin was quite dark and he wore short pants that stopped above his knees. The rest of his skin was bare except for a narrow decorative band tied around the upper part of each of his biceps.

  Hok stared at the young man's hands. Curiously, they were wrapped with rope. The rope looked very rough and covered everything but his fingers, which moved freely. Hok assumed it would allow him to both grab things and make fists.

  Hok leaned toward Seh. “Do you want me to tell you what I see?”

  “Don't bother,” Seh replied. “Just tell me who is going to win.”

  “The Siamese Assassin,” Hok said.

  “What?” Charles said. “Are you crazy? The other man is huge!”

  Hok shook her head. “That doesn't matter.”

  “Huh?” Charles said. “What does matter?”

  “See the shiny line running down each of the Assassin's shins?” Hok said. “All the hair has been worn off his legs in those spots.”

  “So?” Charles said.

  “You have to kick things like trees for years for that to happen,” Hok said, “and you have to kick them hard. Also, look how battered and bruised his elbows are. He uses them a lot. He's even gone through the trouble of wrapping his hands with rope. I've never seen that done before, but I'll bet it protects and strengthens his hands while delivering maximum damage to his opponent.”

  “Rope on the hands?” Seh said. “Ouch.”

  “I see what you mean now,” Charles said. “The Mauler is going to lose bad. He doesn't look like he practices at all.”

  “That's not entirely true,” Hok said. “Look at the Mauler's ears. See how they look both puffy and rock-hard at the same time? Sort of like the vegetable hua ye cat—cauliflower? That comes from years of having your head banged against the ground. The Mauler is a wrestler.”r />
  “Wow,” Charles said. “That's amazing. So, you still think the Assassin will win?”

  Hok nodded. “It looks to me like he practices more.”

  A large gong sounded from somewhere near the betting table, and Hok watched the Siamese Assassin spring immediately into action. He raced toward the Mauler at full speed, leaping high into the air with a flying-knee attack.

  The Mauler stood his ground and swatted the Assassin out of the air like he would a fruit fly.

  The Siamese Assassin crashed to the ground.

  The crowd roared with laughter, and Charles turned to Hok. “Are you sure about your choice?”

  “Just watch,” Hok replied.

  Seemingly unfazed, the Assassin jumped to his feet and raised his roped hands in front of his face. He began to taunt the Mauler in a foreign language.

  The Mauler scowled and took two lumbering steps toward the Assassin, crouching low as though he were going to attempt a wrestling takedown.

  In the blink of an eye, the Assassin shot forward and delivered a vicious low kick with his shin to a band of particularly sensitive sinews on the outside of the Mauler's lead leg, just above the knee.

  CRACK!

  Hok felt the brutal impact just as much as she heard it. The crowd gasped, and the Mauler howled in pain.

  “Somebody is going to feel that in the morning,” Seh said.

  Hok shook her head and watched as the Mauler lifted his damaged leg. As soon as he did, the Assassin shot forward a second time, repeating the technique on the Mauler's other leg.

  CRRRRACK!

  The second brutal kick echoed deep inside the pit and the crowd cringed as one, including Hok.

  “Owwww,” Charles said, rubbing his legs.

  The Mauler teetered, and Hok watched the Siamese Assassin step in close, thrusting both rope-bound hands up toward the Mauler's towering head. Hok waited for the Assassin's fists to collide with the Mauler's face, but that didn't happen. Instead, the Assassin wrapped his hands around the back of the Mauler's head and pulled his opponent's face straight down while jumping up and thrusting his knee skyward. The Assassin's knee collided squarely with the Mauler's nose.