The Book of Bones

by Natasha Narayan

  “No!” I shrieked, trying to jump off the bed. “Never.”

  “Kit.” Yin held me down on the bed. Her face was calm, though her grip was amazingly firm. “This needles not hurt you. Trust me.”

  “I am not going to be stuck with needles. Like … like … like,” I cast around desperately for the words. “Like a pig or a hedgehog.”

  “This is medicine, Kit,” Yin murmured. “This not hurt you.”

  The healer was watching us, the hint of a smile on his lips. Reluctantly I lay down. I screamed when the first needle went in, but after that managed to hold my nerve. After a while it wasn’t so very painful, more of a prick than a stab. The man seemed to stick them everywhere, on my arms, legs—even my face. Then after a time he removed them and indicated that I was free to rejoin the others.

  “So?” I hissed.

  Yin shook her head severely. “Must not rush him.”

  The others had heard my screams. Perhaps they feared the healer was actually doing away with me! When I came out Waldo rushed over, as if he was going to embrace me, before I pulled away. We all waited, fidgeting, for the man’s verdict.

  Finally the healer came through, having changed his robes. He began to talk, the solemn sound of his words hanging in the air. After several sentences, Yin translated.

  “Rachel first. He no see any poison in your body. He say your Qi, your life force, very strong, though you must take care good of your heart.”

  My friend gasped as she heard this, her shoulders sagging with relief. I realized we were all sitting bolt upright, tense as strung wires, while we awaited our fate. As soon as Rachel relaxed, she looked over at me a little guiltily. I could tell what the look meant. She thought I was the sick one. Also, she felt guilty for being well.

  “One down, three to go,” I whispered, and Isaac flashed me an odd look.

  “Waldo, you have very strong Qi and strong Jing, or essence,” Yin went on. “This essence comes from your father and runs hot in your blood. The healer say you have much of energy and determination—but your Shen, or your spirit, is sometime low. Anyway, you have no poison.”

  “Don’t know what all that nonsense meant!” Waldo muttered, but I could tell he too was relieved. Now it was only Isaac and me.

  “Isaac,” Yin continued. I could tell by the way she spoke that single word, that Isaac was fine. I didn’t take in what she said about Isaac. Something about very strong Shen—but then anyone could have told you that Isaac is a brain on legs. I waited, skin crawling, heart thumping. I waited and waited and slowly, reluctantly, Yin came round to me.

  There was a look about Yin, watery, wretched, that made me not want to hear her words. Still, I needed to hear them, if you know what I mean.

  “Kit, the healer he say your Qi marvelous. He see such strength very rare and—”

  “Yes, yes,” I interrupted rudely. I had no interest in my “life force.” I knew I had plenty of spirit, thank you very much.

  “But he say there is something blocking your Qi. This something a poison. It weigh on you, like small leech living in your tummy, sucking blood and food.”

  “Lovely,” I said sarcastically. But my throat was so dry and hoarse I could barely utter the word.

  “The healer he fear this poison it kill you. He very, very surprise, because he not know what it is. That is why he put those needle in you. He never see this poison before.”

  “Can he cure me?”

  Yin was silent for a moment, studying the dragons on the carpet. Then the healer, who had been so silent, intervened, talking passionately and gesticulating. He had produced a small bottle of murky liquid in his wrinkled hands. At the end of the outburst Yin spoke again.

  “He say your Yin is too strong. Your Yin energy and your Yang energy need to be balanced, but he never see such an explosion cold Yin energy. He give you this bottle of Five Poisons Wine. It contain the blood of five venomous creature: centipede, scorpion, spider, snake and toad. This will give you hot energy to help—but he say he never seen your illness before. He do not think this cure you.”

  “What will cure me?” I asked.

  “He not know what to do.”

  “That’s not good enough!” Waldo burst out furiously.

  Yin hung her head. “This man a very wise healer. He know thousands of poisons. But he say he never see this one before. He say keep trying Five Poisons Wine but he be very feared.”

  “That’s as likely to poison Kit again as cure her,” Waldo snarled.

  “Yes.” Yin nodded.

  “What?” Isaac exclaimed.

  “Too much of Five Poisons Wine will kill her. But it also keep her alive for now. The healer say he can see Kit is becoming worse. She dying.”

  Rachel had put her arm round my shoulder and for a moment I lay limp in her embrace. Her eyes were warm and sad. For a moment I caught a glimpse of the healer’s wrinkled face, his eyes a mournful reflection of Rachel’s.

  So everyone felt sorry for me. From now on I was an object of pity. I sat up straight, bolt upright. “I’m not giving in. I’m going to beat this.”

  Waldo had sagged, he looked shrunken, defeated. His hands twisted and turned but I could see he was at a loss. Never before had he shown so clearly that he cared.

  “You see what this means, don’t you?” Waldo sprung up and paced around. “This is no trick. We have no choice. We have to follow the Bakers’ orders and find that Book of Bones. Kit must have that antidote at all costs!”

  There was a sudden crash. The healer had dropped the book he was holding. Yin picked it up and handed it back to him.

  Waldo went on: “If we don’t bring it back to England in a few weeks, well …”

  “You won’t have the bother of my company,” I said. There was silence after my little outburst, as all my friends turned to me. But no one, it seemed, could look me in the eye. I couldn’t really blame them. What was there to say?

  “Don’t bother to tell me how sad you are,” I said. “There’s no point.”

  I know I sounded self-pitying, but you’ll forgive me, I’m sure, for feeling a little sorry for myself.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The weeping willow by the bridge, the glittering red pagoda, the monumental stone dragon bearing down on us—I scarcely noticed them as we were shown out of the healer’s chambers by two more eunuchs. It had taken just a few hours for the beauty that had so thrilled me this morning to shrivel and go stale. Those awful pangs that I’d experienced on the Mandalay were back, redoubled. There was an ache in the pit of my stomach, tingling in my limbs. The pain had spread to my head, which felt as if it was loosening itself from my neck and would soon rise like a balloon into the sky.

  “Pull yourself together, Kit!” I hissed to myself. My words were empty. I didn’t have the strength.

  The two eunuchs escorting us were young. They had bloated faces and high, chirruping voices. The one in front of us had a cringing air despite his gorgeous robes and crystal hat button, which showed he was of high rank. All the boys who served in the palace were eunuchs—from poor families—and had been spayed like cats to ensure they did not flirt with the Emperor’s hundreds of wives and concubines.

  We were passing a gorgeous palace with a tiled roof that seemed to be almost lifting off the walls when I heard a yahoo. My aunt trotted into view, accompanied by Mandarin Chao.

  “How did the visit to the doctor go?” she asked. But no sooner had I begun to tell her when she shushed me. “Look!” she commanded. “There’s a sight few Englishmen will ever see, the Empress Dowager.”

  A great hubbub was coming our way—a huge procession in the middle of which was a bejeweled sedan chair. From inside the chair I heard laughter, brittle as the chime of bells. A lady was holding back silken curtains to peer out. She had a perfect oval face, pale as a bowl of milk, and black eyes burning under arched brows. A beauty, they whispered of the Empress, a tyrant. She had ruled China since the death of her husband nearly ten years ago, often over-r
uling her weak nephew, the Emperor Kuang-hsu. Empress Orchid, as she was called, wore a fabulous yellow satin gown embroidered with vivid pink peonies. Her teapot headdress towered like a crown, studded with jade and emeralds and more pink peonies. Over the gown she’d flung a cape made of thousands upon thousands of magnificent pearls, each one as big as a bird’s egg. The only other thing I had time to notice were her hands, adorned with massive rings and gold fingernail protectors curving over the ends like witch’s talons.

  A great crowd of eunuchs ran before and after her sedan chair carrying everything the Empress might need: combs, pins, powder boxes, fans, mirrors, cigarettes, paper and ink—everything you could think of. There were also two old ladies in her train, plus servant girls. This procession made a great hullabaloo and everyone who saw them fell to the ground kowtowing. I banged my head on the ground enthusiastically, for something in the way the Empress had cast her black eyes over us made me shiver. She looked very shrewd. I did not want to give her too much opportunity to study us as I was sure she would not be fooled by our Chinese disguises and would quickly spot us as imposters.

  No sooner had the Empress’s procession swept by than Mandarin Chao hurried along. “We see oldest son. He now finish Imperial examination.”

  He led us past a vast palace sprouting fantastical roofs, the Hall of Heavenly Peace, our footsteps quick and light in our Chinese cloth shoes. Then we came to another vast building, guarded by a giant stone dragon.

  “Palace of Preserving Harmony,” Mr. Chao explained. “Place of examination.”

  Guards were stationed outside the palace. They were fearsome Manchu Bannermen, Tartar warriors from the steppes of Mongolia, with high cheekbones and slanting black eyes. They bristled with swords and bows and arrows and looked as though they would as soon slice off your head as say hello. Only now did Aunt Hilda remember to ask about the healer. I did not want to tell her anything, so Rachel broke the news. For a moment I don’t think she believed my friend. She blinked and asked her to repeat herself. When she did finally accept what had happened, she reacted as Waldo had. We would set off tomorrow, she said, to find the Book of Bones.

  A terrific boom resounded through the palace. Guards broke the seals on the doors, and hundreds of youths streamed out, Mr. Chao’s son among them. He was a thin, scholarly-looking boy. I expected them to embrace, but had forgotten how reserved the Chinese can be. While we were passing out of the Palace of Preserving Harmony our host was questioning his son.

  Like fathers all over the world he was probably asking him how he had done in his exams!

  I did not know if the son had acquitted himself well, for the father wore a somewhat gloomy air. He had not long to worry about his son’s success—or lack of it—for a servant ran up to him and began babbling in Chinese. It was obviously some bad news as Mr. Chao turned pale and trembled.

  “All is lost,” he hissed to my aunt.

  “What are you talking about?” she replied.

  Hundreds of students were milling around us in the great court outside the Palace of Preserving Harmony. Mr. Chao and my aunt had to whisper fiercely to be heard.

  “The Empress herself suspect you. She say spy in Forbidden City.”

  “Pish and tush!”

  “This very serious. Terrible for reform party. My enemy must be behind.”

  “We’ll brazen it out,” my aunt replied.

  “No. If they find you, they hang you. Or maybe death by a thousand cuts.”

  My aunt went very quiet at this, for the gruesome Chinese punishments were legendary. Death by a thousand cuts involved literally bleeding someone to death by making countless small cuts all over their body.

  “They won’t dare,” she said. “I’m a subject of Queen Victoria. They would never insult the British like that. Why, the Royal Navy would blow up Shanghai like that!” She clicked her fingers. I could tell, for all her bravado, that Aunt Hilda was terribly frightened. When she is scared she becomes even more proud and defiant.

  In the distance, in the direction of those Imperial gardens full of scented wisteria and willows, came a terrible commotion. I had a view of some Bannermen running and the rat-tat-tat of gunfire. So they were armed with more than just swords and arrows. Mr. Chao was pulling at his pigtail while he thought. Then suddenly he said a few words to his son and, indicating to three of his servants to follow him, he darted away into the crowd of weary examinees. The last I saw of him, he seemed to be running.

  The son, a short, sallow youth with Mr. Chao’s scholarly air, turned to us and bowed deeply. “My father trust me honor of looking after you. They look for imposters in my father’s servants. He ask me to smuggle you out of Forbidden City.”

  We had little choice but to follow the younger Mr. Chao as he strode away, his pigtail bobbing down his blue coat. We hurried to keep up with him. Despite Aunt Hilda’s bluster, we knew we were in deep trouble if we were discovered in this place that was sacred to the Chinese Imperial family. We went past pagodas, gardens and lakes toward the gate where we had entered. No one stopped us—we were only poor servants in the employ of one of the numerous students. In the shade of palm and jasmine trees we came to a small pavilion and a cluster of five guards, who were on their break. They stood in the shade of the trees smoking their cigarettes and chattering.

  Mr. Chao Junior turned to Waldo and said, “We are in nasty place. I have plan to take us out of here, but you must trust me.”

  “We do,” Waldo replied. “What’s your plan?”

  “Surprise,” Chao said. Then he barked out something to Yin, her eyes grew distant and she murmured, “Stand like a Pine, Sit like a Bell, Move like Lightning.”

  I stared at her, alarmed. This was a fine time for Yin to have one of her funny spells.

  “Soft as Cotton, Light as Swallow, Hard as Steel.”

  “Yin, you’re not making any sense,” Waldo said gently.

  “Kung Fu,” said Yin. “These are the rules of Kung Fu.”

  I had heard of Kung Fu. It is a sort of acrobatic fighting. What did it have to do with us? But my attention was suddenly diverted by Waldo, who was gripping my hand. Mr. Chao Junior had vanished, reappearing like magic in the group of guards. He was chatting to them, smiling. I blinked, and in that instant two of the guards were lying on the ground, their bodies twisted.

  “What the …?” I stuttered.

  “He’s fighting them. Three against one—he’s got no chance,” Waldo hissed. “I’ve—”

  “No,” Yin held him back. “The best way for you to help is stand in line, make sure no one sees this fighting.”

  She managed to restrain Waldo, who squirmed under her grip. The rest of us fanned out into a line. The three remaining guards were shouting for help. Luckily this spot was set well back from the main thoroughfare and there was no one around. One man had managed to draw his sword. He was slashing savagely at Mr. Chao.

  Mr. Chao jumped back and forth, deftly evading the blade. With a vicious grunt the guard hurled himself at the student. The side of the sword caught Mr. Chao’s leg, slashing his trousers and drawing a thin line of blood. He cursed and for a moment I thought it was all over. Then, with a lightning movement, Mr. Chao flicked his other leg and kicked the sword out of his opponent’s hand. It rose in a glittering arc, falling blade first toward the earth.

  Mr. Chao and the guard both rushed for it. Our friend caught it awkwardly in his left hand, blade against palm. I winced as a crimson drop fell from his hand. The sight jerked the other guards out of their stupor. Except for the swordsman, they were sluggish. I wondered if they had been smoking opium.

  But now their hackles were raised. They came for the student, three of them in a snarling pack of rage. Waldo had managed to break away from Yin and with a few bounds was in the fight. But Mr. Chao now had the upper hand and was wielding the sword like a pike. Throwing it from hand to wounded hand, he advanced on the three guards—who backed away nervously. Then he did something completely and utterly insane. He s
hocked us by throwing aside the sword and moving empty-handed on the guards.

  They were just as surprised as we were. Their heads jerked to the side as they watched the sword fall under a jasmine tree. Mr. Chao took advantage of their momentary inattention. With a swift upward movement he had landed a blow on one guard, on his solar plexus. The man crumpled silently in a heap. The second guard was caught with a series of kicks—but now the third guard, the man who had pulled the sword, had a knife glittering in his hand. He was more vicious and much more sneaky than the other two. While Mr. Chao felled his comrade with a kick to the stomach the third guard sneaked behind the student, dagger drawn. His knife was an inch away from Mr. Chao’s back when Waldo waded in, punching him from the side on his cheek. It must have been a ferocious blow. The man slumped heavily, and the knife slithered out of his hands into the grass.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Chao said, swinging round to Waldo.

  “Why did you throw away the sword?” I interrupted. “It was madness.”

  “If I had the sword I might have killed a man,” Mr. Chao replied. “I trusted in my Kung Fu. These men are just doing their work.”

  “He would have killed you,” I said, gesturing to the swordsman.

  “Nevertheless, I do not want a life on my conscience.”

  We gaped at Mr. Chao Junior as he calmly wiped a sweaty frond of hair away from his forehead. His wounded hand left a streak of blood. Yin went up to him and taking out a handkerchief wiped away the smear. He was so callow looking, with his spectacles and air of frowning scholarship. Like a Chinese Isaac. Yet he had dispatched four guards almost before the rest of us had time to react.

  While the rest of us were still dazed by these events, Yin was moving swiftly. She knelt down by a fallen guard and began to strip him of his jacket.

  “I don’t understand,” Rachel said. “You provoked that fight. The guards weren’t harming you.”

  “I needed something they have.”

  “What?”

  Chao Junior gestured to Yin, who had stripped one of the guards nearly naked. “Their uniforms. The soldiers at the gate are looking for foreigners disguised as servants. Not look for guards. It is only way to escape from Forbidden Palace.”