by G R Matthews
“Yes, my Lord.” Haung bowed and then left Marbu and the duke to further planning.
# # #
Haung knocked on the door of the elaborate town house and waited. As he raised his hand to knock again, a panel in the door slid back and Haung could see two dark eyes staring back at him.
“Good afternoon,” he said, “I am Haung. I wish to see Master Xi Jiang.”
“He’s not seeing anyone. Go away,” and the panel slid shut.
Haung sighed and knocked again on the door.
“What?” The panel slid open again.
“I wish to see Master Xi Jiang,” Haung stated.
“And I told you to go away.”
“Perhaps you misunderstand me,” Haung said as the panel began to slide closed once more. “I am Jiin-Wei Haung and I will see Master Xi Jiang.”
The panel slid closed again but this time it was followed by the sounds of bolts being drawn on the other side of the door. The heavy wooden door swung open revealing the inner courtyard and a servant, dressed in a plain white robe.
“My apologies.” The servant bowed low then straightened though not enough to look into Haung’s eyes. “Master Xi Jiang has many visitors but few come with an appointment or any desire but to have him play for them. He prefers his solitude. However, a Jiin-Wei needs no invitation. I will take you to the tea room and inform the Master that you are here. I am sure he will be down directly.”
The servant beckoned for Haung to follow him up the steps to the walkway and guided him to a room that overlooked the small pond in the corner of the courtyard. Haung removed his shoes, entered the luxuriously decorated room and sat on the silk cushions near the low table.
“Tea will be served in a moment. I will go and tell the Master you are here.” The servant bowed again then left, sliding the door closed and leaving Haung on his own in the room.
Without moving from his comfortable position, Haung surveyed the room with a professional and appreciative eye. The decorations were on par with those of the duke’s richest rooms. Silk cushions, tropical hardwood table with fine inlays and carvings. The wall scrolls were exquisite depictions of landscapes and delicate pictures of figures, of all stations, going on with their lives. He stared at them, drinking in their beauty and appreciating the skill of the artist.
“My favourite is Juran’s rolling hills. It reminds me of my homeland and he has a careful style with the brush. I find Guo Xi’s mountain landscapes a little too rigid for my taste, though his skill with the brush is unmatched. I suppose that says more about me than the artist. But then, that is the purpose of art is it not Jiin-Wei Haung?”
Haung turned his head sharply, surprised that he had not detected the man’s approach. He quickly stilled his features.
“Master Xi Jiang, you move quietly for a musician,” Haung said.
“What is music but the control of sound? Understand a sound and you can do whatever you want with it,” he replied as he placed his slippers down by the door and entered, sitting down opposite Haung. “That was my Master’s first lesson, and his last. If you understand something, you can control it.”
“He sounds like a very wise man,” Haung said.
“Oh, he was. I would not be the musician I am without his teachings. Talent will take you only so far. Dedication, good teaching and lots of practice are the key. Another of his lessons.” Xi Jiang offered a smile, “Ah, Tea is here. Good. You have arrived just at the right time.”
“I have?”
“Indeed. We have just had a delivery of fresh tea from the Northern tea fields. A luxury, I know, in these times of difficulty but I am getting old so I am sure you will forgive me.”
The tea servant entered, a small attractive girl, and commenced placing a plain white teapot down in the centre of the table. In front of either man, she placed a small smooth cup and a white napkin. As she reached out to pour, Xi Jiang raised a hand.
“That is fine. I will serve my guest. You are dismissed. Please inform the staff that we do not wish to be disturbed.”
The servant bowed and slipped from the room, closing the door behind her. Xi Jiang used a slender hand to pour two cups of the fragrant green tea. Neither man drank immediately.
“Fresh tea always smells of the land it came from. Have you visited the north at all?” the musician asked.
“No, I have spent much of my life in the city,” Haung answered. The wafts of tea were enticing but the pleasure in drinking was patience. You did not rush tea.
“Much, but not all?” Xi Jiang rested a hand on his cup. “I suspect there is a story there. With a Jiin-Wei there is always a story.”
“You have known some of my order before?” Haung copied Xi Jiang’s hold of the tea cup. His palm encountering a gentle warmth that flowed up his arm. It was a reassuring feeling.
“A few. I play for so many people of wealth and title. The emperor had so many Jiin-Wei at the feast I played at that they seemed to outnumber the guests,” Xi Jaing smiled. “The wall scroll you were admiring so much when I arrived was his gift to me for playing. It is one of my greatest treasures.”
It was not a subtle message but an important one. Xi Jiang was saying; I know what you do for a living but it would be better for you if you knew in how much esteem the emperor and other powerful people hold me. Haung nodded to Xi Jiang to show he understood.
“Please, drink. Enjoy the tea.” His host lifted his cup and drank first.
Haung brought his own cup to his lips and inhaled the steam, taking it deep into his lungs. The perfume and warmth breathed new life into his being. He sipped the warm liquid, letting it slide over his tongue, tasting it carefully and then drip down his throat to settle in a homely warmth in his belly.
“It is very good,” Haung said and Xi Jiang bowed slightly in response.
“Now, what can I do for you?”
“You played beautifully at the feast the other night,” Haung said as he placed the empty tea cup back down on the table. Xi Jiang refilled the cup. “It was shame that an assassin tried to kill the duke and necessitated the end of the night.”
“Some people have no respect for music,” Xi Jiang said. “But, I am not sure how I can help, or how it relates to me?”
“We are trying to trace the assassin's movements and whoever hired him. All the guests and servants are being interviewed,” Haung answered.
“You did not catch the would-be killer?” Xi Jiang took another sip of tea.
“We did. Unfortunately, he has not yet regained consciousness. Questioning a comatose assassin is not very rewarding. So other avenues need to be fully explored. In these difficult times we cannot have unrest or disorder, not if we are to come through it in good shape. Also, the duke does not want to be killed,” Haung explained.
“Quite.” Xi Jiang looked into his cup, then swirled the contents a few times before taking another drink, “What would you like me to say? I can tell you that I was playing when the commotion began. I am afraid I did not get a look at the assassin. Judging by the way you exited the room he was behind or to the side of me, in some hidden compartment or tunnel. When I play, I tend to block out the world. The music is all, you see.”
“A pity,” Haung said. “You mentioned that you are not from Yaart. Where is that you were raised?”
“No, I was born and raised in the North. Not far from where this tea comes from actually. I suppose that is why it is a luxury I permit, and allow myself to pay for, even in these times.”
“You miss home?”
“I do,” Xi Jiang answered. “I have travelled much of the empire but I would like to go back and retire there one day. Perhaps I’ll buy a small tea plantation and grow a blend of my own making.”
“What about your wife and children?” Haung drank the last of his tea, tipping his head back to drain the last drops.
“I have no wife, or children.”
“You’ve never been married? That is a shame, Master Xi Jiang. A good wife is priceless.”
&
nbsp; “I did not say that, Master Jiin-Wei. I should re-phrase my statement. I am no longer married or have children.”
“My apologies and, if you permit me an assumption, my sympathies.” Haung watched the master musician for a reaction. Xi Jiang stared into his tea cup. “I have taken up enough of your time and should leave you to your peace. My thanks for the truly excellent tea. Perhaps I could impose on you one last time for the name of the tea estate that produces this blend. I am sure my commander would be very interested in purchasing some.”
“Of course, my servant will provide you with the details and the name of the factor I use in the city to arrange for its delivery,” Xi Jiang said.
“Again, my thanks for your help. We are determined to have a resolution to this matter before the week is out.” Haung stood and Xi Jiang followed suit. At the door, Haung paused and turned to look at the musician. “You play exquisitely. Your master’s lessons were well taught and listened to. Now will you pay heed to a mere apprentice who is acting outside of his orders and his power? If I was a gifted musician whose talent would be welcomed anywhere in the civilised world I would be thinking hard on making my way to a new town, or perhaps taking a trip to the capital to see it one last time before I retired to my tea plantation.”
Xi Jiang gave Haung a searching stare, “Wise advice, my young friend. Anyone can be a good teacher. A student needs to be a good listener if he is to learn the lessons. My master taught me that a long time ago.”
“I count myself lucky that I had the chance to hear you play. Farewell, Master Xi Jiang.”
“Farewell, Jiin-Wei Haung. Take care of yourself. Remember my Master’s most important lesson, to control something you must fully understand it. It has been my foundation, let it be yours too.”
Xi Jiang bowed to Haung who returned the gesture.
# # #
Haung slipped out of his robe and slid into bed next to his wife. He draped an arm over her shoulders, around her chest and pulled himself in close, to nestle against her back. He let out a contented sigh.
“I wish you’d come home earlier some nights,” she said.
“I thought you were asleep,” Haung whispered.
“I was, but it’s hard to sleep when someone goes around slamming doors and bumping into things,” she replied.
“Maybe if you stopped rearranging the furniture every time I go out, I wouldn’t be bumping into things,” he said with a small smile on his lips.
“Huh,” she said as she sat up in the bed. “Make a light, I want to talk to you.”
“What have I done now?” He turned over, licked a finger and drew a small sign on the frame of the bed and spoke a soft word. The candles on the other side of the room sprang to life.
“Not you, us.” She reached out a tender hand and cupped his cheek. “I was planning to tell you tonight over a nice meal but you didn’t get home in time.”
“Tell me what?” he said, puzzled.
“I’m pregnant.” He saw a tentative smile appear on her face. “I’m late, and it’s late enough to be pretty sure. I spoke to the Granny and she said it was more than likely.”
“How?” he said and realising how that sounded added, “I mean, I know how, but how long?”
“Seven weeks, give or take a week,” she looked away. “Aren’t you pleased?”
“Of course I am,” he paused, “But is this the best time, with the famine and the city in the state it’s in.”
“You should have thought about that before you came home in mood for more than food.”
“But don’t you keep track of your cycle, so it doesn’t happen?” he said.
“Yes, I do and don’t you have those magic tricks you can use? You’re not happy are you? I worried about telling you but pretty soon it would be impossible to hide it from you or anyone.”
“I am happy.” He shook his head a little then pulled his wife into a warm embrace. “You just caught me by surprise that’s all.”
As she cuddled him back his thoughts turned to the secretary and the threats made months ago. He increased the pressure of the hug. Now I have two to protect, he thought.
Chapter 27
Zhou sat opposite Boqin, between them a small fire lit the dark night.
“Let us return to our first lessons. Remember, all those months ago, when you stumbled out of the mountains knowing nothing and ready to kill yourself. Well, tonight is the culmination of all the training and, more than any other, you need be clear headed and clear of purpose,” Boqin began. “Many apprentices, when the spirit is brought forward lose their minds to the other realm. Not all, or there would be no Wu at all, but enough to ensure that our calling is not sought by many and another reason why there are so few of us left. And the stories circulate through the uneducated so when they discover what we are, they are afraid that we will take their minds as well. Thought-eaters we have been named in the past. Driven out of our homes and into the wild, lashed to a post and burnt alive. But they are misconceptions and dangerous ones at that. The spirit lives within us all, but we contain and imprison it. Only a Wu can set it free to do his bidding. When you have learnt enough you will see and comprehend the spirit in others. You may learn to respect the other spirits enough that killing becomes difficult. For you will be snuffing out two lives each time you kill, the human and the spirit. You may not face that difficulty, each Wu is different, but there are some beliefs we all share and honour. These you must learn before all others. Now, eat.”
Boqin tore the leg from the small bird roasting over the fire and began eating. Grease dripped from his mouth and trickled down through his beard. Zhou watched for a few seconds then used his sharp knife to cut meat from the breast of the bird and began his own meal.
“Firstly,” Boqin began as soon as he had finished chewing the meat and had thrown the bone over his shoulder into the darkness, “the spirit within us is the most sacred thing. The life of a Wu is to raise, protect and nurture that spirit. The spirit has been gifted to us, to understand it, to commune with it. We are the fathers and mothers of the spirit. Everything we do must be to honour that gift. We can harm the spirit, abuse it, treat it as a slave, we can even kill it though we would die too, but this is not our way.”
“Secondly, we must seek to raise the spirit in others. To open their inner eye so that they too can respect and nurture the spirit. They may never be Wu but they can be taught about the spirit, they can learn to see it in themselves and in others.”
“I didn’t ask to be like this,” Zhou said.
“Very few ask to be a Wu but you must accept the spirit. It has sought you out above others. It is the reason you are alive now and not lying amongst the fallen of Wubei, or dead upon the pass through the mountains. It sustained you when you had no food, gave you energy when you were tired, warmed you when you were cold. The spirit knows how to survive. It can teach you if you're willing to watch and listen.”
“I have nothing. Death is nothing more than my reward for my failure to protect my city and my loved ones.” Zhou hung his head and let his eyes focus upon the ground. Shadows from the fire skipped across the grass and hid amongst the stones.
“Between the light and the shadows is the doorway. What you know as the world is changed, not wrong, but your understanding is enhanced. I can take you to the doorway and show you the way. If you choose to step through then your real journey can begin.” Boqin’s deep voice threaded between the flames. “If you choose not to, then we will speak again. I will be here when you are ready to step through. You will need to if you want to keep control of your mind and survive.”
Zhou sat in silence and Boqin seemed content to leave him undisturbed. Wood snapped and crackled in the fire.
“Show me,” Zhou whispered.
Boqin grunted in response and then fed more wood into the fire, building it up slowly and deliberately. “The first time is the most difficult. Not to find the door or even to pass through, but to find the path. The more you make the journey the easi
er it becomes, until you can slip between this world and the spiritual at will.”
Boqin stood and began to circle the fire, flattening the earth with shuffling feet. “Always before, your anger and grief has opened the door and let the spirit come to you. You must learn to open the door with the ease of breathing. When you can do this you will come to realise there is no path and, indeed, no door.”
In the flattened earth, Boqin drew symbols and runes of glowing blue. His finger tracing the careful designs. “You will come to know that there is no spiritual world and real world. They are one and the same. Each a reflection of the other. One overlays the other and which one you dwell in, between every moment, is a choice you make.”
The runes continued to glow and Zhou stared at them, puzzled at first and then realising that they were floating above the earth.
“When you know these things, you will realise that your body is a shell for the spirit, a spirit that you share, but one that belongs to you both. One and the same, no difference.”
Zhou looked up from the runes and tried to find Boqin across the fire, but the flames were high and blinded him.
“Do you understand?” Boqin was saying. “You and the spirit are no different, there is no separation. You are the spirit and the spirit is you. It has always been this way. Where there are no spirits, there are no people. This is what we must awaken in people. Do you think the great deserts of the world are there because of the climate and the weather? When you are able to see them as a Wu you will know the truth. It is the absence of spirit that brought them into being, that caused the desolation.”
Zhou found his eyelids growing heavy as he listened to Boqin's words. He stretched his back and yawned.
“When you see as a Wu you will know that your spirit is actually a part of a larger whole. In turn, this too is part of a larger spirit. Truly great Wu from ages past, when we knew more and were wiser, teach us the world is spirit, the spirit is the world. If you are great, then, one day, you may see this. It is something that all Wu aspire to.”
Zhou's face was warmed by the flames and the muscles in his arms and legs ached. He lay down in front of the fire.