by Laurence Yep
Mr. Hu took his paw away from Tom’s mouth. “Are you all right?” he asked Tom, but Sidney piped up.
“Just fine, partner.”
Mr. Hu frowned and touched Tom on the shoulder. “And you?” When Tom nodded, Mr. Hu glanced at the lizard thoughtfully. “There should have been more guards here.”
Mistral kept her eyes ahead. “Maybe Vatten sacrificed them at the mansion.”
“The only way to find out is to go on,” Mr. Hu said, adjusting his tie and giving a quick brush to his fur.
As Monkey sprang forward with his staff ready, the dragon yanked at the rat’s tail. “You too, Sidney,” she said. “We’ve come for the egg, nothing else.” She slapped the rat’s paws, and he dropped what he had taken from the lizard.
“It wasn’t very good anyway.” Sidney rubbed his paws clean. “Vatten must pay cheap.”
They followed Monkey cautiously down the steps, which grew increasingly slippery. Tom had made sure he was next to the elderly tiger so he could help him, but Mr. Hu’s hind paws managed the steps better than his own shoed feet.
The deeper they went, the narrower the passage grew. As the stairway bent sharply to the right, Loo sprang into their path.
“The phoenix is only for Lord Vatten. Not for the likes of you!” he shouted.
“I’ll show you who’s a buffoon,” Monkey said, raising his staff. He still rankled from the insult Loo had thrown at him in the mansion.
“You should have been more cooperative and died back at the mansion,” Loo said petulantly. “Now I’ll have to give you a more painful end.” And he began to open the umbrella.
As wisps of green mist began to rise from it, Mr. Hu clapped a paw over Tom’s mouth. “Don’t breathe in the vapors or you’ll get sick.”
“Don’t worry,” Monkey said, and began to twirl his staff faster and faster until it was a blur like a propeller. “Watch this, dragon,” he called proudly over his shoulder.
The green cloud blew back around Loo, who began to cough.
“How do you like your own medicine?” Monkey crowed. Still whirling his staff, he charged forward. Choking, Loo tried to back up, but he was too slow and Monkey’s staff shattered the umbrella, sending the bamboo sticks and paper flying. Instantly, the green vapor vanished.
With a snarl, Loo wrenched a slim sword from the umbrella shaft. “I see I have to do this the hard way.”
Metal rang on metal as Monkey forced Loo back against one wall. “You go on ahead,” Monkey said to the others as he watched Loo. “You have to get to the egg before Vatten finishes with it.”
Mr. Hu hesitated. “We can’t leave you.”
“The egg comes before everything else,” Monkey said. “I’ll take care of this stinkbag.”
“I hate to say it, but the ape’s right.” Mistral slid her body behind Monkey’s, leaving a narrow space between her side and the rock wall. “I’ll shield the rest of you while you pass.”
Loo tried to leap around Mistral to attack the others, but Monkey beat him back. “You’ll never leave here alive,” Loo said defiantly.
“Bold words when you don’t have your pack of hounds with you,” Monkey said, and swung his staff up. “How are you in a real fight?”
Tom cringed but kept on moving as Loo’s sword clanged against Monkey’s staff. For all of his confidence, Monkey seemed to be having a hard time, for Loo was giving as good as he got.
“Will he be okay?” Tom asked Mistral as she joined them.
The dragon shook her head. “I don’t know. They’re evenly matched.” She glanced at the ceiling. “I don’t have enough room to spread my wings and help him.”
Mr. Hu hesitated and then shook his head. “We don’t have the time anyway.”
“But—” Tom began to protest.
“It can’t be helped,” Mr. Hu said grimly. “Monkey understands.”
“Don’t you die on us,” Mistral called to the ape. “Or I’ll be really mad at you then.”
Chapter 11
The po has the body of a white horse and a black tail. From its forehead springs a horn, from its mouth a tiger’s fangs, from its feet a tiger’s claws. Its call is like a drum and it feeds upon tigers and leopards, for its hide is proof against even weapons.
—SHAN HAI CHING
Mr. Hu went first down the stairway, with Mistral still bringing up the rear. The sounds of Monkey’s deadly battle followed them as they continued deeper into Vatten’s lair.
In small niches on either side of the passage were statues a foot high; time had worn away their features so that they seemed hardly more than cylinders with odd lumps here and there, covered with patches of algae and moss. Then the steps began to twist and turn. At each bend Mr. Hu first tested the clammy air for scents, but he found no lurkers.
When they finally reached the bottom of the steps, they found themselves facing a wide tunnel. Here the lamps were grotesque heads from which masses of long hair billowed above four faces that stared in different directions; flames flickered from the stretched mouths like tongues.
Forming the walls and ceiling were smooth slabs of stone in which blue streaks rolled like waves over the white surface. Filthy water hid the floor. A few feet away the nine-headed serpent had been carved crudely into the wall in a clumsy attempt to claim the tunnel for Vatten, but it seemed ancient—far older than the passage above.
Mistral craned her neck over their shoulders to stare at one of the lamps. “Do you recognize it?”
The tiger gazed at the lantern. “No, but I have heard once of a family who were almost as powerful as Kung Kung. In the great rebellion, they broke faith with the Empress and did not come to her aid.” Tom knew there was only one empress in Mr. Hu’s mind: Nü Kua. “But neither did they join Kung Kung. Instead, they tried to claim they were neutral, waiting to see who would be victorious. When the rebellion was crushed, she punished them by joining them into one creature known as the Watcher. They were called that because it was impossible to surprise them. And so they were set to guard the most important treasures.”
“Let’s hope the creature is dust by now,” Mistral said uneasily. “From what I’ve heard of the Watcher, we would not want to meet it.”
Remembering his mistake at the mansion, Tom asked, “What about the floor?”
Mistral lowered her tail into the water to test the depth. “It only seems about a foot deep.”
Tom wrinkled his nose. “It smells like sewer water too.”
“It will take a month to clean myself,” Mr. Hu said as he eyed the scummy surface.
But they already felt as if something was gathering on their bodies. Something did not want them there, and they felt its anger pressing heavily against them from all sides. Yet there was no challenge to be seen.
“It’s just too . . . I don’t know . . . too easy.” Squatting, Tom poked at the first floor slab, but it seemed solid enough.
Mr. Hu looked thoughtful. “Well done, Master Thomas. You’re learning to be cautious and I stand corrected. We should make sure that there aren’t any trapdoors. We should throw a rock ahead of us.”
However, though they were on a staircase of stone there was nothing they could pry loose. The tiger turned to Sidney. “What have you got in your pockets?”
“What do you need, partner?” The rat reached into his fur eagerly. “I’ll give you a good discount.”
“Anything so long as it’s heavy,” Mr. Hu said, holding out a paw.
“Oh no. You’ll damage the merchandise.” Sidney tried to back up a step, but Mistral caught him by the scruff of his neck and lifted him into the air.
Mr. Hu wriggled his claws. “It’s either the merchandise or you, Sidney.”
Sidney kicked his hind paws back and forth idly. “Well, I’ve been thinking about holding a fire sale. I guess I could give up some stuff—since it’s for you, Mr. H.” The rat dug around in his fur. “No, that’s already promised to a customer. And that’s for my mother’s birthday.”
“Sidne
y!” Mr. Hu rumbled dangerously.
“Okay, okay,” Sidney said. Using two paws, he hauled out a brass spittoon, adding, “But you’re going to have to explain to my mother.”
Mr. Hu took it in both paws. “Where do you keep all this?”
Sidney folded his forelegs together. “You got your magic, and I got mine.”
“I think you’re part pack rat,” Mr. Hu said, and dropped the spittoon in front of them.
It splashed, bonging against the floor and then making waves as it slid through the filthy water across the stone floor.
Reassured, they stepped down into the stinking liquid. Mr. Hu shuddered. “There’s mud oozing between my hind claws.”
Even so, he bravely led the way as far as the spittoon.
“Oh, my poor baby.” Sidney started to pick up the spittoon to clean it, but the tiger took it from him.
“We still need it,” Mr. Hu said.
Sidney covered his eyes with his paws. “I can’t watch all this abuse.”
They repeated the process several times. On the fifth throw the spittoon sank without a trace.
“Uh-oh,” Sidney said, putting a paw over his mouth. “There’s a hole there.”
They edged up to the gap in the floor and Mistral tested it with her tail. “It’s only a couple of yards across.”
“Now for the other side,” Mr. Hu said. “What else do you have, Sidney?”
“You want more?” Sidney said. Tom could have sworn that the rat had grown pale beneath his fur.
“We have to make sure the next section is safe,” Mr. Hu said firmly.
“If you weren’t my partner . . .” Sidney mumbled, but he handed over a can of caviar.
When the other side proved safe, Mr. Hu nodded to Mistral. “We’ll need to cross over on you.”
“I am not a bridge,” Mistral said.
“It’s for the good of the cause,” Sidney said, poking the dragon in the side.
“Are you going to let Sidney set an example for you?” Mr. Hu asked.
Grumbling, the dragon stretched her body over the gaping hole and they scrambled onto the next slab.
There were two more booby traps before they reached a large, low-ceilinged chamber with stained, bumpy walls. It took a moment for Tom to realize the bumps were skulls so old that they were brown with age. Some of them looked human, but many were of such odd sizes and shapes that they could not have been. Water dripped down them in slow trickles, streaking them green and blue and orange with minerals.
The floor, which was raised above the level of the tunnel, was of some polished silvery metal that reflected the walls and ceiling.
Sidney crouched down and tested the floor. “It’s all one piece so you don’t need any more merchandise,” he said, relieved.
A doorway stood on the opposite side.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
“Is that thunder?” Tom asked.
Through the doorway trotted a creature that looked like a horse, all white except for her black tail. A white horn spiraled from her forehead. With her reflection in the floor, it looked as if there were twins.
“It’s a unicorn,” Tom said, and started forward excitedly.
Mr. Hu held him back. “No, that’s no unicorn. She has paws, not hooves. It’s a po.”
“And look at the size of those claws,” Mistral said warily.
“And I can assure you the po’s fangs are as long as mine,” Mr. Hu said.
The po’s chest expanded, and she let out a boom like a large drum. “What kept you? I’ve been waiting to dine on tiger. It’s been so long since I had one that I’ll enjoy it—even if you do look a little tough.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Mistral said. “We’ve lost enough time.”
“Careful,” Mr. Hu said. “Her hide’s as tough as yours. Swords and arrows would bounce off it.”
“Let’s see how she handles a dragon’s claws,” Mistral said, but when she took a step forward, she skidded.
“The floor’s slick as oil,” Mr. Hu said. “Are you sure you don’t need more help?”
“I can manage a dozen of her,” Mistral boasted. “Just let me fly.” The dragon unfurled her great wings, but as large as the room was, the ceiling was too low to let her rise into the air. “Then it’ll have to be on foot,” she said with a nervous smile. She gingerly slid over the floor, looking as awkward as someone trying to ice skate for the first time.
The po glided easily in a large circle around the dragon. “This won’t save you, tiger,” she said. “When I’m done with the dragon, I’ll come for you.”
Careful at first, the others began to shuffle across the floor. Tom had never been very good at skating so it only took a few steps before he slipped.
“I’ve got you,” Mr. Hu said, hauling up at his collar until Tom could stand.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The po thundered like a huge war drum as she slid from side to side, trying to attack them; but the dragon kept managing somehow to stumble in front of her.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
When they reached the doorway on the other side, Mr. Hu called back, “We’ve made it.”
Free of having to protect the others, Mistral cried, “Kamsin! Kamsin!” and began her attack.
With the dragon’s war cries echoing in their ears, the others made their way down the hallway to a bronze door. When Mr. Hu opened it, Tom saw a smaller chamber with triangular walls that rose upward toward what must be a point—though Tom could not see it in the darkness. A four-faced lantern hung from the ceiling on a chain, but though it burned as brightly as the lamps in the tunnel, it cast only a dim circle of light around a small crystal table. On the table rested the coral rose.
The silvery floor looked as black as the night’s sky except for the reflection of the table and rose at its center, waiting for Lord Vatten to fetch it.
They tested the floor with more of the grieving rat’s merchandise, but the path to the rose seemed firm. “It’s all clear,” Tom said.
Still Mr. Hu crouched, widening his nostrils as he tested the air for scents and twitched his ears for sounds. “Something’s still not right. Sometimes the nose and ears will tell you what your eyes cannot.”
“Where’s Vatten?” Tom asked, worried.
The Guardian straightened up. “Who knows what part of the world he’s in? But they must have sent a message to him. We’ve gotten here before he did, and that’s a bit of luck at last. You wait here.”
Tom was more afraid of the dark room than he had been of anything he’d met so far, but he knew it was crucial that Vatten not get the egg. And what had he really done except let Räv trick him into losing the phoenix? Monkey and Mistral were both risking their lives. He had no powers and no magical devices. Only himself.
He was certainly no hero, not like his grandmother or the others. But he had never backed away from bad odds before this. “Grandmom, this is for you,” he murmured. Making his stiff legs move, he passed around the tiger and into the room.
“Where are you going?” Frantically Mr. Hu snatched at him, but Tom managed to duck under his paw.
“If there’s a trap, I’ll spring it,” Tom said, forcing himself forward though his legs now felt like gelatin. “Then you can get the egg.”
“Come back here!” Mr. Hu ordered.
“Grandmom said a Guardian can’t be selfish.” His steps grew steadier. “And neither can his apprentice. You’re the important one. I’ve finally found something I’m good for.”
In the darkness he never saw the thin strands of hair that crisscrossed the room until he walked into them, and by then it was too late.
Chapter 12
The strands of hair felt cold and thin as wires, and they did not break but clung to his body until after a few more paces he was wrapped in them. Instinctively, he tried to step back and felt the hair lift his feet from the floor. Panicking, he tried to flail and kick free, but his body only became more enmeshed.
“Lie still,” the tiger s
houted.
But more hair shot from above so that Tom felt as if he were being buried by a black avalanche. The less he was able to move, the more the panicked boy struggled.
“Sidney,” Mr. Hu said urgently.
“One flashlight coming up, Mr. H,” the rat said. Despite the booming of the po and Mistral’s answering war cries, Tom could hear Sidney fumbling behind him and soft zipping sounds that kept ending in a thud.
“I know it’s in here somewhere,” the rat apologized. “I just rearranged things and you know how it goes—”
“Confound it, Sidney, we need it now.” Mr. Hu crouched on his hind legs, his large eyes widened even more as he sought to pierce the darkness.
“I’m looking, Mr. H,” the rat said.
At first Tom thought it was a black cloud rolling down from the ceiling, but as it swept past the lamp, Tom saw that it was a huge mass of hair, writhing like a tangle of snakes.
“For entering my sanctuary, you must pay,” voices sobbed from above. “You must pay.”
“It can’t be,” Mr. Hu gasped. “I’m coming, Master Thomas.” From the corner of his eye, Tom saw the tiger framed in the doorway and trying to move forward, but more strands of hair, almost invisible in the dimness, had shot downward to block him. As he swung his claws in a great sweep, the hair broke with loud twangs.
Locks of hair, braided together like ropes, encircled Tom until he was in a cocoon, and he felt himself being drawn upward into the darkness above the lamp.
“Found it, Mr. H.” Sidney slipped the flashlight from his fur and snapped it on. “Creepers,” the horrified rat said as he saw the hair strands crisscrossing the room at all heights and angles.
The cone of light rose from the flashlight, above the lamp, to the source of the hair itself. A massive creature clung to the pinnacle of the room like an anemone on a rock by the beach. The back, front, and sides of its head each had a face that was streaked with tears. It was the same head as on the lamps in the tunnel—the Watcher.
It blinked in the light and the four mouths wailed at the same time, “How dare you gaze upon me. For that sacrilege, you will all die!”