The ghost and the mother both wish one thing, the one thing impossible. They want to give the girl now woman some account of what they have learned of passion, its rewards and price. Compelled to watch, each thinks of the white silk scroll given by the Amah. Might its words let her know what experience teaches? And yet, whatever it says, it waits forgotten, and if some teller of stories – anxious as always for a sensational tale – were to read from it to an audience of voyeurs, would it not be transformed into a pallid cloth of lies, as empty of truth as a false lover’s vows?
As the two in the wide bed sigh and tremble, and the other two watch and sigh, up in the distant mountain palace of the Western Motherqueen, a jade woman – star-souled attendant on the Amah herself – stirs and wraps herself close in her indigo cloak and, without knowing why, breathes deep, and deeply sighs.
PARROT
SPEAKS:
10
After staying the night with me, Ghalib left, and I slept until early afternoon. A west wind blew in fresh, cold air; I woke to a clear sky and a mixture of apprehension and languor and sleepy excitement. I had no idea whether he would come again.
I had eaten little the previous day, but I wanted only tea, so I drank the rest of the cold, bitterish potful by my bed. Then I ground my inkstick on the stone, patiently mixing the powder with a little water until it pooled smooth and black in the well. Half in a trance, I took up a scrap of paper, an old practice sheet still clean on the other side, and wrote out new lyrics to the melody I had played last night for Ghalib. My brush flowed down the page as if of its own accord, the words released as my body had been the night before.
Reading over what I had written, I wondered what to make of it. The old gentleman who first taught me a poem from The Book of Odes lectured me that same evening on the moral importance of poetry, on how it teaches the ruler how to rule, and the people how to live. I have heard other scholars – their spirits elevated by wine, their thoughts running on to higher things – bemoan the vulgar verse of this fallen age, even while I played them the women’s songs in everyday language that they had come to Lutegarden to hear. And one spring evening by the lily pond, a friend of Collator Wu’s had argued with him that in composing poetry one’s deep thoughts accord with the cosmos itself, as a lute string will resonate when one plucks another tuned to the same note.
Perhaps that last idea was right, for that sleepy, nerve-tingling afternoon my brush glided freely, as it harmonized with the natural workings of the Tao itself. But I think the truth is something less grand. Wu had quoted to his friend a few sentences from some famous essay, and I never forgot them: ‘Feelings move within, and take form in speech. If speech will not suffice, one sighs. If sighs will not suffice, one sings them out.’
The others awoke from their midday naps, and I rushed with the poem to Nephrite’s room, to read it to her. She was kind in her praise as always, though I knew from her voice she thought I might have done better to choose a different sort of subject: a wandering journey in the mountains, say, in search of immortal sylphs. What’s more, her comments almost seemed comments on another set of words, as though the lyrics I had brushed out on that scrap of paper differed somehow from the ones she heard. In any case, I knew enough to tuck the paper away where Baby wouldn’t see it and read however much she could. It would distress her to be reminded that Ghalib had stayed the night. In fact. Baby was beyond such jealousy just then, though I didn’t know it yet.
Nephrite smiled and asked me to help her pack up a few things. At last she had wheedled permission from Mama Chen to stay two nights with the Purified Teacher at Darkdazzle Vista. ‘Don’t tell, dear Parrot,’ Nephrite said as I walked with her to the gate to see her off, ‘but – I might be able to wear the cap of a Taoist Lady sooner than I’d hoped.’ Then she pressed her lips tightly together and climbed into the waiting sedan chair.
Absorbed in helping Nephrite, and in preparing myself in case Ghalib should visit again, it didn’t occur to me to look for Baby until nearly evening. In fact. Mama Chen sent me off rather sharply to find her, muttering something about what a trouble Baby’s muteness and moodiness had turned out to be. ‘The girl dances well enough,’ she said, ‘but what possessed me to think she could amuse a gentleman caller properly when it’s time to sit and gossip or play games, I’ll never know. And now she’s turned so sullen! Well, run and fetch her. Dragonfly, and tell her she’d better look livelier tonight than she did last night.’
I would have defended my friend if I had dared, but walking back towards the apprentices’ room I realized that the cheerful, capering Baby of long ago had vanished behind a thickening veil of sulkiness. Some of the fault lay with the twisted cruelties of the Iranian dancing teacher. Yet just before I stepped through her doorway, it came to me that another reason rested somehow on my shoulders. The half-hidden pleasure she had taken in knowing that I only tolerated Collator Wu; her loverlike overtures at night, so quickly taken back; her ill humour when any guest took too much interest in my music or my words: if she had let me, I would have been hers, but though she denied us that, she both loved me and resented me as any betrayed woman might.
I found her flat on her back on the apprentices’ bed. Her head tossed from side to side. A low moan slid from her lips. She made no response when I said her name, but a touch on her heated forehead let me know that the reason wasn’t sulkiness. I rushed to report to Mama Chen.
Her manner was more one of annoyance than concern over Baby’s illness, though I knew some of that was only show. ‘I’ll look after her, child. We needn’t call for a doctor yet – just send in one of the kitchen maids to help. Then go and tell Bellring she’s to keep an eye on things tonight. I’ll want her to come in here for instructions.’ She paused to loosen Baby’s clothing. ‘Ai, what a trouble this one has turned out to be, poor thing. Have little Jujube wait on you if your barbarian gentleman returns, unless Glory’s patron drops by. She’s your senior, so in that case you’ll have to manage him on your own.’ She looked up from Baby to cock an eye in my direction. ‘You will manage him, won’t you, dear?’ She cackled when I hung my head and blushed.
Ghalib did come back. He said it was against his better judgement, but he had been bewitched by my eyes. Then he smiled benignly, in a way that meant I was to understand his words as a compliment. It pleased me to do so; I found it hard to believe anyone, even a foreigner, valued my looks. The night stretched as long as the one before. He liked best the way called Cranes Entwine their Necks, when he sat upright and I knelt astride his thighs. He was so tall that I had to reach up to throw my arms around his neck. I liked the safe feeling I had then.
Again we parted early, but this time Ghalib stayed a while.
and told me that Umar’s strange illness seemed a little better, though he couldn’t travel yet. ‘A lucky chance, my Parrot,’ he said, ‘or perhaps the intervention of some god?’ I laughed aloud at the idea, and because he thought it fortunate.
After he left, I hurried to dress, feeling guilty that I hadn’t stayed by Baby rather than with Ghalib. But of course it was understood that a guest had first claim on my time and my attention. Perhaps part of Baby’s anger grew from her own acceptance of that idea.
Mama Chen’s head jerked up from her drowse when I stepped into Baby’s room. ‘The girl’s still sick, hotter even than last night,’ she said as she laid her palm on Baby’s forehead. ‘I’ll have a doctor in when it’s full day.’
‘Baby!’ I said, as if to call her wandering spirit back to its place among us. I don’t know if that was the reason, but suddenly she sat upright, eyes staring blankly before her, and began to shake. Tremors racked her whole body. A voice escaped her mouth. It was the voice of a full-grown woman, and did not sound as if it could be hers.
‘The two,’ it said, ‘the two, two girls must go, must go to Chang-an. The two must go together to Chang-an.’
Neither Mama Chen nor I moved, but I felt the chilly rise of hair across my scalp. Baby’s face, wip
ed clean of any sign of recognition or awareness, turned towards me. ‘Greenpearl,’ she said. ‘Go.’ Then the twitching grew so great she could not sit upright but fell back, neck arched, head flailing again from side to side.
Celestial Audience Rooms
‘And that’s all you have to tell me?’ the Jade Emperor asks, a terrible look in his glorious eyes.
The former Undersecretary gazes downwards, abashed. ‘That’s all at the moment, sire,’ he says. The Luminous Emerald-Green Lunar Essence Sprite has not yet received the little dancer’s message. The former Undersecretary considers throwing himself onto his face at the foot of the astral throne, but that only seems to annoy His Divine Majesty at times like this. Somewhere in a grassy glade down in the sub-celestial realm, a group of Taoist holy women are pacing out the sacred steps that send the cloud-soul of an initiate dancing among the stars. It’s not so bad when they are summoning a divine lover, but the adept at the centre of this ceremony wants to travel to the Western Halls of Jade, the palace of the Western Motherqueen. The atmosphere at the Emperor’s court always grows a bit edgy when this particular rite takes place.
‘Well, I must say the creature doesn’t seem to be learning much, or at least not much of the right things. She’s forgotten her quest entirely, she’s become far too attached to the way that foreign fellow makes her feel, and the only real spiritual seeker she knows is more interested in – in the Amah than in me.’
The former Undersecretary murmurs a categorical denial of that last remark, even as a wild possibility. Simultaneously, he shakes his head in disgust at the seeker’s lack of taste. Still, he can feel how, far away in the Western Motherqueen’s fastness beyond the ramparts of the Kun-lun Mountains, her attendant jade women make ready to receive a guest.
His Divine Majesty leans forward to impart a confidence. ‘Now listen well, my lad. She is picking up a bit of human chatter, so Lady Guan-yin should be satisfied on that score. But it’s just as well we do all we can to keep up good relations in that quarter, and for some reason the Buddhists are holding me responsible for sending her to the human realm. You know what sticklers they are about the working out of karma. And there’s that whole complicated matter of her nanny’s death vow, not to mention the girl’s filial obligation to rescue her mother and the broken promise to the Dragon Monarch’s son – ‘ He waves a hand as if tossing away a hopeless snarl of silken threads.
The former Undersecretary’s face expresses great sympathy at the woes that beset a heavenly monarch, woes that one of his mean ability could never hope to bear.
‘Really,’ the Jade Emperor continues, ‘ever since you brought me that silly Go set, and then let Guan-yin send you traipsing off to some sand dune to rescue that travelling monk, and down to King Yama’s court… well, things are getting out of hand. I want you to do what you can to put her back on track and get the whole business over with. It would be a pleasure to see you promoted back to your old position, or even something a bit better,’ He leans back and his belly shakes as he booms out, ‘But you’re not to interfere with the workings of her karma,’ His voice drops. ‘You realize, lad, that if you’re caught, we’ll be forced to deny any knowledge of what you’ve done.’
The celestial bureaucrat stutters, stammers, and submits. He hurries off to his office to ponder the problem that has been dumped in his gorgeously robed lap. That troublesome Luminous Emerald-Green Lunar Essence Sprite needs to hurry on before His Divine Majesty gets stuck with more karmic consequences. But any obvious interference with Greenpearl’s sojourn on earth by a member of the Taoist Celestial Administration will only heap new responsibilities onto the Jade Emperor’s head. Oh, the problem’s clear enough. It’s only the solution that eludes him.
The former Undersecretary, now a mere factotum in a minor ministry, calls for a soothing cup of Jade Sap and – when the heavenly servant boy has left the room – slouches in his chair. Who might serve as a go-between to the human realm, delivering a message that will get the unruly pearl back on the Road? Then the answer comes to him. He summons, and explains.
…so you see, mademoiselle, some sort of action simply must be taken.’ The meek ex-Undersecretary of Baubles now has the air of a respectable and important member of the office of the Acting Assistant Controller of the Ministry of Babble. He looks down along his nose at the diaphanous, full-breasted figure wavering before his desk. ‘So I – that is, we – thought you might wish to take advantage of this unusual opportunity to repay some part at least of your debt to His Divine Majesty for your rescue from the fire and ice of hell. Your link to the human world allows you, you see, to travel between the realms, ah, shall we say less conspicuously than I?’
The shapely, wavy-haired ghost cocks its head and stares directly into the Taoist official’s eyes. It learned rather early in its time in the flesh to recognize when a man was leading it towards some end of his own; it learned, too, that a saucy stare could sometimes turn the situation to its own advantage.
The official forces a cough. ‘Now. I have already taken it upon myself to effect a brief delay of the foreign trader.’ He looks away. The Persian trader, one might better say, mademoiselle.’ He can’t afford to offend this potential agent. Things have not gone well for him recently, not at all, and he thinks he can sense another group of those libidinous, uppity Taoist women preparing for some rite: he feels a headache coming on.
But the ghost, busy smoothing its wild tresses and running its tongue over its dry lips, barely listens. It remains half bound to the human world, half barred from it; even in the villa of the Dragon Monarch beneath Cavegarden Lake it can barely coalesce into the semblance of a bodily form. But here in the ethereal domains of the Taoist heavenly hierarchy, something is happening. Like a stream of warm moist air breathed out on a cold day, it – or rather now, she – has begun to take on the pure solidity of a cloud.
The official, having noticed the ghost’s transformation, rushes on into his speech. ‘What’s needed, mademoiselle,’ he says, ‘is some way to, ah, encourage the girl to get on about her business before things get bogged down altogether.’ He starts to explain about the displeasure, the extreme displeasure, that the Jade Emperor would display should the being in question follow her friend Nephrite on the path towards the Western Mother-queen’s court. But the ghost grows more womanly by the second, and he decides to let that aspect of the problem remain unspoken. ‘Do you suppose you might – that is, I think it would be best for you if you arranged some way to help the girl get on the road to the east again. Some ghostly pressure on her mama –’ He looks away again. ‘Her false mama, that is to say, the woman Chen. Or perhaps an extremely strong attachment on the part of the Persian man.’ The ghost drifts towards him. ‘Yes, that’s a thought,’ he says hastily. ‘I’m certain someone with your, ah, ability to charm could manage that.’
The ghost at first thought this official who summoned her so abruptly both irritating and pompous; now she finds within herself the desire to undo the knotted fastener at the stiff collar of his sumptuous robe. She has always seen something rather touching in the boyish self-importance of certain men, and she has rarely perceived any reason to stifle such desires.
‘One thing, though.’ The official holds up a hand, palm towards her, as if to fend her off. ‘We may need to send word to her again, so you’d best keep channels of communication open in some way. But I remind you, nothing dearly traceable to this office,’ He smiles ingratiatingly. Tm certain you’ll handle things effectively.’
Lady of the Tao
1 Lotus crown and feather cloak –
Shimmering wisps of cloudy skirt float free.
Starshine on sacred altar:
In fragrant mists she steps a stately pace
Through grassy precincts, through the starry void.
Her girl attendant plays on reedy pipes.
Longing for the day she’ll don such robes.
The Lady’s wish? To call a spirit lover.
Drawn there by h
er dance.
2 Morning’s dew descends to earth.
Gemlike drops deck hair dishevelled in the night.
The Lady’s tears greet dawn.
For hours she heard his faint, sweet, birdlike words
And, earthly passions muted, made a tryst.
At last he left, celestial mating ended.
Now she yearns to fly with him again.
Useless to wait, and yet she waits, and sighs.
In case some word should come.
PARROT
SPEAKS:
11
Baby seemed quite recovered by the afternoon Nephrite returned from Darkdazzle Vista, though the little dancer was under orders to spend one more night resting. The doctor Mama Chen had summoned the day before checked her various pulses and prescribed a regimen of blended herbs, but the fever had already broken, right after her strange fit, and by the time he arrived she was sleeping normally.
After the doctor left. Mama Chen sent one of the kitchen maids out to the herbalist’s to fetch the medicine. Still feeling guilty over leaving Baby for Ghalib the night before, I begged to be allowed to make the infusion myself. ‘Do it if you want to. Dragonfly,’ said Mama Chen, ‘but leave me in peace. I’ve hardly slept, and heaven knows I’ve other business to attend to. A certain official – a curse on his stinking mother! – is putting the squeeze on me. Some nonsense about an irregularity in Baby’s registration. Claims I owe a small fortune in fines and back taxes.’ She passed a hand over her eyes. ‘Ai! Up all night, a girl in the house who’s taken to speaking in tongues, and bribe money to be found. You’d best keep watch over this ghost-ridden bundle of troubles. I’m off to catch a wink of sleep. Tell Bellring to handle whatever needs to be done.’ With that, she left.
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