by Guy Salvidge
“Exactly,” Ji Tao said. “But we can't allow ourselves to be captured, or it's all over for us. The important thing now is deciding what we're going to do.”
“We can't go back to Baitang,” Sovann said.
“We knew that already,” Liang said.
“We can't go to Luihang either,” Ji Tao said.
“Why not?” Sovann asked.
“They'll be looking for us there, too,” Ji Tao said. “It's the obvious place for us to go, which is why we can't go there.”
“Where else?” Liang asked. “Not Zhenghe.”
“Not Zhenghe,” Ji Tao said. “We don't know anyone there.”
“Then where?”
“There's only one place where they can't get us.”
“The jungle?”
“Not the jungle.”
Suddenly Liang knew what she meant. “The crypt! They can't get us down there, not if we have the key!”
“Yes,” Ji Tao said. “We have to get to the crypt; that's the only place where we'll be safe.”
“But they'll look for us there too,” Sovann protested. “They can fly there in their metal bird and wait for us. They're probably waiting for us right now.”
“Maybe,” Ji Tao said. “Or maybe not. They wouldn't expect peasants like us to do a thing like that. They would expect us to do what peasants do, which is run and hide.”
“Getting to Shulao won't be easy,” Liang predicted. “There'll be more checkpoints. We won't be able to go through the towns.”
“I know, I didn't say it was going to be easy. You can always turn yourself in here if you like. You can take your chances like that.”
“I couldn't bear to be tortured,” Sovann said.
“You said you wanted an adventure, cousin Liang,” Ji Tao said. “Are you ready for a real adventure?”
“You bet I am!” Liang said. She was right. He felt exhilarated.
“So you're coming with me? Sovann, what about you?”
“I'm not turning myself in,” she said.
“We're fugitives now,” Liang said. “Even though we haven't done anything.”
“We have done something,” Ji Tao said. “We've found out what's going on, and now we're standing up for ourselves. I was right to trust Kai Sen; he spoke the truth.”
“How are we going to get past Zizhong?” Liang asked. “Have you thought about that?”
“We're not going into Zizhong,” Ji Tao said. “We're going through the jungle.”
“What about the cannibals?” Sovann asked.
“We'll have to take our chances with them. Anyway, I don't know of anyone who was killed by a cannibal, do you?” None of them did.
So they waited. Around them, the jungle pulsed with life. Lizards darted in front of them, cicadas clicked and birds chirped. The jungle canopy was dense here, the sun hidden. And yet they sweltered.
“We need to get moving,” Liang finally said.
“What are you waiting for, Ji Tao?” Sovann asked.
“All right,” Ji Tao said. “Let's go.”
There was no discernible path through the jungle, and thus it was necessary to plunge into the undergrowth. Liang was engulfed by the myriad clicks, clacks, whistles and hums of a million, a billion insects chattering away mindlessly, eternally: a constant drone. Before him, a tangle of life, an insidious creeping twisting creature that encompassed every shoot, every branch, winding these filaments into a subterranean design that served, mostly, to block their passage.
The jungle grew thicker, the light dimmer. The plants had choked one another in striving for the light, devolving into a chaotic assemblage of shoots and stalks. It became difficult for them to find passage between the stems, and they were soon forced to backtrack. Growing desperate, they squeezed through narrow gaps, their clothes coated in sticky seeds. Lacking an implement with which to hack at the thick stems, Liang was unable to prise the tendrils apart. He thought he heard a whistling sound. A bird perhaps. But now his neck was sore. In fact he must have been stung by something, for his neck was burning with fire.
“Let's rest for a minute,” he said. “My neck hurts.”
Liang peered up through the tangle at the dim light above. If only the green limbs were an inch thicker, he might consider climbing toward the light, but they were not and besides he could find no foothold. They rested, gathering their thoughts. Then Liang decided to try a different approach. Instead of trying to squeeze between the tendrils, he would barrel the thin stems apart with the weight of his body. At first this proved successful, but he soon grew tired, an exhausted juggernaut staggering toward collapse. Eventually, he saw through sap-encrusted eyes that the tangle of stems was thinning. Breaking through into a small clearing, Liang sank to the yielding earth. Ji Tao and Sovann were somewhere behind.
Flat on his back, Liang looked up at the rays of light filtering through the canopy, saw in them a glint of a message, but the canopy roof was moving and the message was interrupted. His eyes stung as if they had had acid thrown in them; he could feel the flesh around his eyes. An insect landed on his face and he batted it away feebly.
Something was calling him. He tried to listen.
“Help me,” he called, and allowed himself to submit. Something answered his plea; now there was a presence moving into him. It took up residence in his head. Liang wondered what it was he had invited inside. Ji Tao and Sovann were around somewhere, but it was as though he had been encased in empty air. The invader propelled him relentlessly, its imperative ebbing only occasionally to allow him to rest, to eat strange objects he would not otherwise have considered. He came to a stream coursing through the jungle. On his knees, Liang cupped his hands and drank the clear water.
Then he saw the spire, an arrogance of metal in an overgrown surround. Possibilities presented themselves in a dim way, but he had a sense that the edge of the world lay over there; if he were to wander in a different direction he might come to the precipice, might tumble over—or be pushed—into a white eternity. The tower crystallized, solidified, and he was compelled towards it. The jungle seemed to wither away, seemed to shrink before his eyes, until the spire alone stood resolute. At the bottom of the spire was an open door leading to a spiral staircase.
Liang climbed upward into the light,
toward a latent presence,
like the memories of a mind
now moved elsewhere.
There were abandoned connections,
waiting to be applied again.
His feet no longer mounds of flesh,
but soft and swift as sky.
The stone steps far below,
drained away at the pull of a plug.
World submerged but mind remained,
and there was something greater still above.
Liang swam between the stars,
ethereal, formless and free.
Yet was still compelled in a subtle way;
he would be made to see.
Liang marvelled, for he was circling through space. The spire had been left far below. Around him were stars and pools of light unseen before this instant. Explosions all around him. Spinning back, head back, and there was the sun, golden rays rushing past him, amber bronze sparkles, and ambient heat waves sounding. He marvelled, marvelled, and spun tightly toward it, moved swiftly into that pool of burning heat. A dim voice laughing, some scheme unfolding. Liang saw himself spinning into a world of light, saw the sun boiling away in the sky, a grenade of illumination bursting and re-bursting in his eyes, which could not forget the brilliance, the scintillating sparkle, the white power—
—and then Liang was in the jungle again, gasping for air. His chest pounded and he was lathered in sweat. Whatever strange force had picked him up had cast him away just as abruptly. His heart was racing. Someone was coming, and there were voices: “Liang! Liang!”
He looked back as Sovann and Ji Tao crashed through the jungle, pleading with him to stop.
“What is it?” he asked. “What's the matte
r?”
“You idiot!” Sovann said. “You ran off!”
“What?”
“What got into you?” Ji Tao asked.
“I don't know,” Liang said.
“Are you all right now?”
“I think so. Where are we?”
“We're lost,” Sovann snapped. “I've never seen anyone run like that. And you were screaming your head off.”
“I'm sorry,” Liang said. “I thought I saw something.”
“All right,” Ji Tao said. “Let's have a look at the compass.”
Liang rummaged through his bag for the compass. Finding it, he pulled it out and gave it to Ji Tao. Then he got out his flask and drank deeply.
“That way is north,” Ji Tao said, pointing to their right, where the jungle was most dense. “We need to head north-west, maybe west for now. We can get back to the Wu later.”
“Come on,” Sovann said, helping him to his feet. Then she said to Ji Tao: “He's all cut up. Look at his face.”
“He'll be okay,” Ji Tao said. “He just got a fright.” They started trudging in a westerly direction.
Liang got the sense that they were heading deeper into the jungle. “We don't want to get lost,” he said.
“We'll be fine,” Ji Tao said. “It's safer than the river road.”
There was a square of light ahead. A clearing, where the undergrowth thinned away. They came to a rocky outcropping dotted with stones. The sun beat down through the jungle canopy.
“My feet are hurting,” Sovann said. “Let's rest for a while.” She found a patch of shade and sat down cross-legged on a large, flat rock.
“I don't like this place,” Ji Tao said. “It's too exposed.”
“What about something to eat?” Liang asked. “Have you got any rice left?”
“They're watching us,” Ji Tao said. “I can see them.”
Liang looked. Sure enough, he could see a number of half-naked tribespeople in the gloom, spears held at their sides. The tribespeople did not move—neither to attack, nor in greeting. “We mean no harm,” Liang said. There must be half of a dozen of them lurking around, maybe more.
“Give them something,” Sovann said. “A gift. Quickly.”
“What?” Ji Tao asked, looking in her bag.
“What about a torch?” Liang said. “We can spare one of those.”
Carefully, without making any sudden movements, Ji Tao got a torch out of her bag, held it up in both hands so that the natives could see what it was, then placed it on a rock near the edge of the clearing. She moved away and sat down near Sovann and Liang. There was a pause, then a small native boy scurried over to the rock and snatched the torch away. He disappeared into the jungle. Liang heard whispering voices; the tribespeople were examining the torch. Suddenly it clicked on, which caused some short-lived consternation.
“Just wait,” Liang said. “They'll come out in a minute.”
He was right. Soothed by their passivity, and encouraged by the gift, the natives soon came into the clearing. They looked very similar to the natives they had encountered on their previous trip to Luihang. Each wore a simple loincloth and had dark copper skin. Their spears were crude, their bodies painted with symbols.
“My name is Ji Tao,” Ji Tao said. “His name is Liang and this is Sovann.”
One of the natives, perhaps their leader, nodded. He pointed to himself and said, “Tilma. Tilma.” Tilma proceeded to introduce the others in a thick accent, but the names were lost on Liang.
“We're going to Shulao,” Liang said. “We got lost.”
“Shoolow,” Tilma repeated. “Lon way nort an wes to Shoolow.”
“Yes, a long way,” Ji Tao said. “We need food and water. Somewhere to rest. We will give you more things in exchange.”
“Food. Wa-ter. Res,” Tilma said. Then he pointed to Ji Tao's bag. “Giff.”
“Don't give him the bag,” Sovann said.
“No, it's all right,” Ji Tao said. “There's nothing important in it.”
She handed the bag to Tilma. Tilma proceeded to rummage through it, pulling out an assortment of things, some of which apparently met with his approval. Then he handed the bag back to Ji Tao.
“His way,” he said, indicating that they were to follow. Tilma started walking off into the jungle. “Villach,” he said. “His way to Villach.”
“What's Villach?” Ji Tao said. “We want to go to Shulao.”
“No, village,” Sovann said. “They want us to go to their village.”
Liang got to his feet.
Chapter Thirteen
S: How is Kai Sen today? Did you sleep well?
K: Not too badly, but I wanted to talk to you about something. When am I going to see your physician?
S: Patience, my friend. My physician is a very busy man; he has a number of high profile patients to attend to. Rest assured that I will assign him to your case as soon as humanly possible.
K: But it could be too late. How do you even know that I can be cured? I need to see him urgently.
S: I understand your concerns, but you must appreciate that yours is not the only life-threatening condition in Baitang this week. Besides, heh heh, what makes you think you are entitled to such specialised care, hmmm? Most people in your—how shall I put it?—your situation would be wallowing in a dark, dirty cell somewhere, or possibly in a hole in the ground, yes?
K: I see. You don't intend on helping me.
S: You will be attended to in the fullness of time. It is not my intention to withhold treatment from you, but nor do I intend to extend special privileges. Is this understood?
K: Yes. I wanted to ask you about the Chens.
S: Ask away.
K: What have you done with Chen Tuan and Chen Rong Li?
S: Done with them? I've done nothing with them. Actually that's not quite true. They were interrogated. Not intensely, of course. You might say that they are under scrutiny, but nothing more burdensome than that.
K: You won't harm them, then?
S: Such impertinent questions you ask! A part of me wonders why I tolerate this at all. No, I have no intention of harming your precious Chens. It is not my ambition to decimate the peasant population, although it is true that some troublesome elements have had to be liquidated. It would appear that this Chen Tuan is quite the upstanding citizen, at any rate. It would not be fitting to punish him unduly. You might say that such men are the backbone of this fair city.
K: I have another question.
S: Out with it..
K: You said that the peasants are important because the population of Four Rivers is quite small, correct?
S: Critically small—around one percent of historical levels. And it's still dropping, according to the latest census. Thus the necessity to maintain a relatively well-kept peasant population.
K: You call that well-kept? They're living in the dark ages.
S: You exaggerate, my friend. Their lives are not so onerous. Why, they must be among the most pampered peasants in the history of this country!
K: If that's so, then I don't understand why you want to 'crack down on them,' as you put it.
S: Their relative comfort is the root of the unrest problem. A truly subjugated population would offer far less in the way of resistance or organised dissent, but would be far less productive. Thus the peasants are reasonably well fed and looked after. This in turn breeds dissatisfaction among them, for they long for a still higher standard of living.
K: Thus the need for a crackdown.
S: Precisely. As it happens, it is unfortunate that this mopping up operation precipitated the flight of young Chen Ji Tao and her friends. I blame Bao Min for this. He did not properly explain how it came to pass that the peasants he hired ended up getting the better of him. I can see why he wanted to keep quiet about it, but in doing so he has compounded the problem.
K: So you haven't caught Ji Tao, then.
S: Not yet, not yet. But they can't resist arrest much longer.
&
nbsp; K: What makes you so sure?
S: They are now known to the relevant authorities in all major and minor settlements in the Kingdom of Four Rivers. They won't be able to set foot in Baitang, Luihang or Zhenghe without being apprehended. And I have posted a team at Zizhong old town to turn back any refugees, although I will admit that it appears your friends got through somehow.
K: What if they don't return to the shielded cities? What will you do then?
S: Chen Cheng will catch them, I imagine. If he is the one to apprehend them, then I will use him in future rather than Bao Min.
K: And what of Bao Min?
S: Bao Min has been told that he has two weeks to retrieve the key and deliver any remaining sleepers before I put a bounty on his head. So you might say that he has some added motivation. The noose tightens around brave Chen Ji Tao's neck, I'm afraid.
K: I don't see why this key is so important. It's a lift key, isn't it? Surely you could produce another one.
S: We could. In fact I have sent a team to Shulao to do exactly as you propose. But there may be more to it then simply producing a new key. I don't know. But you see, there's an easy way to do things, and a more difficult way, or perhaps I should say a cheaper way and a more expensive way. But you can rest assured that one way or another our goal will be achieved.
*
The 'village' was in fact a collection of huts near one of the Wu's tributaries. The roofs of the huts were thatched with straw. The huts were made of red earth, and smoke was billowing out of one of them. There was nothing in the village to suggest that it couldn't have existed five thousand years before.
Forty or fifty people lived here, many of them children. There did not appear to be anyone over the age of forty or so. Contrary to Liang's expectations, the natives were only too happy to accommodate three tired travellers, and pleased with the various gifts they had received. They were invited into eat a meal in the largest of the huts, in the centre of the village. The room was dominated by a large, flat, polished stone, which served as a low table. The meal was delicious: fermented fruit juice and steamed fish served on banana leaves.
Communication proved difficult, not so much because of the difficult dialect these people spoke, but more because they did not inhabit the same mental universe that Liang, Sovann and Ji Tao did. They called them dunmeng, shield people, and it appeared that they regarded dunmeng as spirits or ghosts. Consequently, they were left to themselves, but Liang couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched at all times. They were given a small hut at the edge of the village to sleep in. The three of them were so tired that night that they forgot to post a sentry themselves, instead putting their faith in the goodwill of the natives.