Carver interposed. “Chung Li, speak for yourself!”
The keen-faced young man had become even more depressed. Carver’s demand made him flinch, made him sag, shake his head wearily. “It would be bad joss. How could I fight my sworn brother, and ask my wife to go against her soul-memories. I’d be bad for her, she’d be bad for me.”
Carver grimaced amiably. “Be hell to give each other up, and bad joss if you don’t. Right?” He waggled his hand. “Never mind answering! Your faces have spoken for you. The three of us are human, and so is Kwan Tai Ching. Now listen!”
The command brought them to their feet.
“The I Ching is a book. It is also a person. It is ancient wisdom—but it is not human. Let’s consult it.”
Once in the shrine room, Carver set a lacquered table in front of the offerings-table which fronted the altar. From a cabinet he took a book and a long, narrow box. These were wrapped in embroidered red silk. He spread the wrapping as a table cover. He fired joss sticks, putting three to the right, three to the left, and three at the middle of the further edge of the table.
Standing by a plastic waste basket, he beckoned to Lan Yin, and extended his hands. From the stand near the altar, she took a vase and splashed a few drops on his hands, the ceremonial washing. He then took the vase and dribbled water on the upturned palms of Lan Yin and Chung Li. This done, Carver took the tumbler and a sprig of the foliage which sat on the offerings-table. He circled the smaller table three times. At each step, he dipped the leaves into the tumbler and flicked a few drops of “magnetized” water to his right, and to his left.
“Uncle Tao Fa, does that really chase devils away?”
“This isn’t devil chasing. Like the joss sticks, the sprinkling of magnetized water is symbolic. Kowtowing in front of the Book is not worshipping it. All this is to get an inquirer into a serious mood, in tune with the I Ching. One approaches it as one would the Ancestors. Now, line up in front of the table.”
He tinkled the little hand-bell. All three knelt, touched foreheads to the floor. The next sounding of the bell was the signal to rise. At the completion of the third kowtow, Carver said, “Let’s be all-out modern. Instead of the long routine of manipulating the yarrow stalks in the box, we’ll toss coins instead. Understanding the substance of the I Ching, its purpose, that’s really the most important—so, try to soak up what I’m telling you.
“The sixty-four hexagrams represent every basic, every fundamental condition. The Judgments set forth the right way to respond to conditions. The Book of Change—the I Ching—gives the essence of a situation. It tells you how to act with regard to that which is, instead of in accord with what was once said about what in fact was actually different, although on the face of it, they seemed the same.
“You can shape your fate if you know that which is. But first of all, you have to state a question. When you first came to the temple, your question was not whether to marry or to part. The question was, how can Lan Yin get liberation?
“Now, Lan Yin, speak for yourself. Don’t feel awkward about speaking to a book. Don’t let that bug you.”
She frowned. “Just ask what I should do to be free? The way I asked you, only not in so many words?”
“You might ask what you, and I, and Chung Li—we’re working together—should do.”
“All along, that’s been my real thought.”
“Speak it to the Book, aloud.”
She bowed, took a short step toward the table. Lan Yin regarded the altar and the Book. She licked her lips and shook her head as though to clear it.
“Venerable Book! How can I and Uncle Tao Fa and Chung Li get me free from Tai Ching’s power?”
Carver took three antique Chinese coins from the box. Each had an inscribed face and a blank face. He handed them to Lan Yin. “Toss them. Flip them so they hit the box and spin.”
She did so. When the coins came to rest, Carver said, “Each blank face counts as three. Each inscribed face is two. Your throw shows two twos and a three, which is seven—a solid line, yang, and not changing. This is the first line of the hexagram.”
Lan Yin did not move.
He finally prompted, “Next throw.”
She said, “Let’s each take a turn. My question was what we all together should do.”
“Chung Li, you toss them,” Carver said.
When the coins came to rest, he read, “A two and two threes, which is eight, a broken line, yin, and not changing.”
Above the solid line, he penciled a broken line. He picked up the coins, tossed them, and recorded the result. Thus, turn after turn, they built the hexagram, the pattern of six lines.
Carver opened the I Ching to the hexagram entitled Shih Ho, and said, “That means biting through. The upper three lines are called li, which is fire. The lower trigram is called chen, thunder, the arousing.
“Biting through—our move is to do something. To prevent serious damage, we should act. Deliberate opposition of the kind we’ve had does not quit of its own accord. However, we must act in the right way. Though thunder symbolizes violence, this need not mean physical force. It can be mental or emotional. And we must not be too rugged. Li, fire, is yielding—but going too far in being gentle would be a disaster. Shih Ho, if you want to be literal about it, means union by gnawing, biting through what causes separateness.”
When Carver paused, Lan Yin and Chung Li regarded him: their bewilderment was plain.
“But what’re we supposed to do?” she demanded.
“The Book tells the nature of the situation—not the details of what to do. We’ve been tackling dummies for Tai Ching’s magic. Now is the time to bite through, all the way through, till the teeth meet.”
“But can’t you tell us something definite?” Lan Yin asked.
“I could, but I won’t. I’ve got a lot of cogitating to do. You, each of you, do the same. I’m through talking. What you two do is your business. But if you’re going to talk; don’t do it here.”
“Uncle Tao Fa, you can’t throw me out. I’ll kick and scream!”
“You damn well would, if you knew what I am more than half thinking of doing.”
“You’ll keep her locked up?” Chung Li asked. And then, “It’s late, and I’m a wage slave.”
“I could padlock the hall door,” Carver answered, “but there’s a fire escape, and what’d the fire chief say if I nailed up an exit?”
CHAPTER VI
Most amiably, they had progressed from “Mr. Carver” and “Mr. Kwan” to “Uncle Tao Fa” and “Tai Ching.” The latter was repeating, quietly firm rather than contentious, “Lan Yin and I are bound in a way that is beyond your appreciation. Your understanding is purely intellectual. For us to fail to honor a contract made by our Ancestors would leave us bent double under a load of guilt.”
Carver nodded. “You and Chung Li are sworn brothers, a relationship we of the West once had but have forgotten. And we’re the loser. We needn’t set up the small altar of earth, nor blend the blood of a fowl and a dog. We’d not even have to recite,
“If I were carrying a peddler’s parasol
And met you, riding a horse,
You would dismount and bow to me.
If you tramped along in a clodhopper coat of straw
And I rode in a palanquin carried by porters
I’d get down and bow to you.
“But we of the West would be better off if friends spoke something of the sort, instead of wallowing in boy-meets-girl TV romance, or poetry equally romantic and empty.” He shrugged, made a careless gesture. “But I’m over-rating you, Tai Ching. You rob your sworn brother of his girl.”
Kwan retorted, fiercely, “I’m not free! Lan Yin isn’t free. I hate to hurt my friend but I’m driven! When I met her, I didn’t know she belonged to Chung Li. The ancient bond took command. There was recognition from dee
p in the background consciousness! Can you believe that this didn’t begin as a willful wrong?”
“I know that that’s true. And when she tumbled into bed with you—”
Tai Ching almost spoke, but checked himself.
Carver resumed, “No person told me. You were quite right in not asking who spoke to me. A slip is a slip! But when she would not come back, you overpowered her with Taoist mantras, with the science of sound and vibration. That wasn’t honest seduction! The Ancestors drew fair contracts. You dishonor them!
“Yes, I spied on you. I saw her shadow in your apartment—her image—and I knew that what I saw could not be any human form.” He described Lan Yin’s unique dress. “When she blacks out, the mirror of Ko Hung doesn’t reflect her face. The real self is absent. That self has quit the body and has gone to answer your command. You’re doing her emotional and mental harm.”
He fixed Tai Ching with a fierce unwavering eye. This accusation had shaken him; it was the “thunder.” Would the ultimate blast be necessary?
Tai Ching finally said, “I’ve done no permanent damage.” He smiled somberly. “Your mirror work—when we three sat here, I knew from her presence that for the first time, she had truly felt and lived again those long-ago days.”
Carver grimaced. “So, you and I are accomplices! I’m here to help you get yourself clear. Let her go before harm is permanent. Did your Honorable Ancestors contract for you to damage Lan Yin?”
“But I’d not be doing that, once we marry.”
“That contract a thousand years ago referred only to the bodies of Mr. Kwan and Miss Liang. The immortal, that which reincarnates, cannot be bound over the centuries. The bond died with those young bodies.”
That stopped Tai Ching, but the stubborn fixity of his face made it plain that inwardly, he hadn’t budged. Carver shrugged, smiled ruefully, and said, “Then it’s a deadlock, isn’t it? You’re the immovable object, and nobody seems to have the irresistible force to shake you!
“But—do you know—we can break the deadlock. After all, it’s a sad business. Lan Yin is in a miserable predicament, she’s in a disastrous bind. Through no fault of her own, she’s causing a break between sworn brothers. Whichever of you she accepts, she’s making one of you wrong the other. I hate to think of it. So do you. So does he.
“Still, there is a way out of it all. One that neither of you has thought of—the certain way of protecting fraternity.”
Eagerness—curiosity—brightened Tai Ching’s face, and he relaxed, all renewed and hopeful. “Please share your wisdom.”
“I will marry Lan Yin. End of problem.”
During a thin slice of time, Kwan stood there as though numbed by words he could neither regard as a threat nor dismiss as absurd. During Kwan’s inability to do or to say, Carver made for the street.
“That was chen—thunder, shock…” he said to himself, and then realized that the recoil had left him as punchy as Kwan. From the doorway he saw the booth from which Lan Yin had phoned to arrange his first meeting with Kwan. Light-headed, he pounced for it, and dialed Sang Chung Li’s office.
“Tao Fa speaking. Come to the temple soon as you can. I’ve just seen Kwan. He heard the thunder.”
When Carver stepped into the shrine room, he found Lan Yin at the altar, lighting joss sticks. She started, eyed him, read his face. “What’s happened?”
“Just phoned Chung Li. He’ll be coming up.”
“What’ve you been doing?”
“Gave Tai Ching his first shock treatment. As we planned. If I have to be away, Chung Li will be here to be sure that nothing disturbs you.”
She caught him by the shoulders. Her nails dug in. “What’ve you been doing?”
For a long moment, they looked at each other, eye to eye. “How far will you go with me—I’ve put everything on the line!”
“We’ll bite till the teeth meet!” Her lips thinned, her teeth gleamed white. “Remember?” Tiptoeing, she caught him with both arms, drew herself closer. “Tao Fa—we went together through the Mirror.” Then they were mouth to mouth, and Carver learned about Chinese kissing. “Whatever it is—no matter how dangerous—anything to be free!” She sank back to her heels, caught her breath, and whispered, “Tell me—”
“You’re going to marry me. He can’t hex me, and so he’d lose a lot of his power over you. I can’t promise—”
“Don’t promise—let’s try it—”
She slipped from his arms. And as he followed her to the nearest of the upholstered benches along the wall, he said, “You had to talk me out of the surprise I was saving for you and Chung Li!”
“Don’t worry. When I hear it a second time, I’ll look blinking-eyed amazed, and how’ll he be looking?”
Sitting there, awaiting Chung Li’s arrival, gave Carver time to become aware of what he had stirred up. He flicked a side-glance at Lan Yin. Though her eyes had a far-away expression, and her lips were slightly parted in the lurking shadow of a smile, she was entirely present and accounted for.
Finally he nudged her. She blinked. “You look as though you’ve married one Foreign Devil every other Friday for months.”
“I was wondering how to look surprised, and how Chung Li’s going to look. How’d Kwan take it?”
“I left before he could speak. He was on his feet, but out.”
A long silence, and then she interrupted his clock-watching: “It’ll be a lot easier for you now. Won’t have to watch me.” She patted his hand. “You’ll live through it.”
Finally, the door bell jangled. It jangled again.
“That’s Chung Li.”
“It’d better be.” And Carver went to the door.
It was Chung Li. He blinked, glanced about. “What happened?”
“I had a talk with Kwan. One of us is going to be totaled, and I’m damned if I can guess who it’s going to be. Get this much: Lan Yin is not leaving this place. If there’s fire or earthquake, go with her, don’t let her out of your reach. And another thing—don’t phone anyone—don’t answer the phone—I want Kwan Tai Ching kept guessing—he mustn’t have a word with either of you, he must not, repeat, not know a thing about either of you. And while you’re digesting that much, I’m making one call, just one.”
Carver dialed his adopted niece. “Uncle Tao Fa again.”
“Again? Yes, after ages! Still have that girl on the brain?”
“Will you cancel all your dinner dates for tonight, sleeping-with engagements, everything, and go to the Pot Sticker until I can meet you for talk and a bite to eat.”
“How many suicides do you want to touch off for the weekend? I always have five, six dates lined up for Friday nights.”
“All right. We’ll compromise. I’ll allow you one other nasty old man. Do you know Sam Chan?”
“You mean the Number One man at Canton Building & Loan?”
“You’re thinking of Joe Chan. I mean Dr. Fung’s friend. Sam runs a grocery store on Commercial Street—”
“Oh, you mean the one where you get dried ducks for six dollars?”
“Right. Anyway, he’s a notary public, and when he’s not drinking ng ka pay, he’s translating the Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch. If you can’t talk him into it, get someone else. A scholar, and have him bring his chop and a notary seal, his own or any he can borrow.”
“You begin to sound illegal—notary seal—someone else’s—”
“This is confidential, and I am in a bind.”
“If you really want an abortionist, why don’t you say so?” And then, “All right! Be stubborn. If not Sam Chan, a reasonable facsimile—I’ll be charming, I’ll bust myself. The suspense is terrific!”
“If I keep you waiting too long, go ahead and eat. And from now on, I’ll not be on the phone. So don’t call back.”
Chung Li and Lan Yin were in a whisper-huddle. Carver
broke up the tête-à-tête: “I’ll dash over to the Dragon Barbecue to get us a roast duck. You get busy steaming the rice.”
“Don’t forget the plum sauce,” Lan Yin reminded him as he left. From the Dragon, Carver headed slantwise across Waverly Place and into the Pot Sticker. He said to the Number One Man, “When Sally Wong comes in, alone or with a friend—” He handed him a trio of tens. “—take her order and tell her if I’m going to be awfully late, I’ll phone.”
That attended to, he got a bottle of shao hsing and retraced his course.
In addition to having rice in the electric cooker, Lan Yin had a pot of boiling water into which she put the bottle of wine. Before it was hot enough to serve, she filled three little jade cups.
“First round, to Tao Fa. Before we get to the awfully serious.”
Chung Li raised his cup. “Whatever you’ve done, I drink to it.”
Lan Yin said, “Let’s eat later.”
“Smart girl,” Carter agreed, and followed her to the shrine.
Lan Yin refilled the cups. On the offerings-table she set a cup of wine, a tiny bowl of rice, and a slice of duck. All three faced the altar, and bowed three times.
Then Carver drew a deep breath, and nerved himself for the test. “Sit down. I’ll tell you about a busy hour with Kwan Tai Ching. Lan Yin, remember, we were saying, you were saying that whether you carried on with Chung Li, or turned to Kwan, it’d be a disaster?”
The lovers eyed each other, but said nothing.
“I told Kwan Tai Ching there was a way out of the deadlock.” Chung Li sat there, face immobile.
Finally Lan Yin asked, “How can that be?”
“Marry me, and there’s no problem.”
Chung Li’s face was bland, blank. Carver wondered whether she had briefed him. He continued, “Lan Yin, call Kwan Tai Ching and tell him that we would not consider it rude if he did not attend our wedding. And say—this is important—that you have not yet made up your mind as to the lucky day. But, it’ll be soon.”
“Do you understand Mandarin?”
“Only Cantonese.”
The E. Hoffmann Price Fantasy & Science Fiction Page 40