“Tell me something,” Jake said. “What is charas?”
“Charas? Hashish. You have that?”
“Plenty. It is to us what tobacco is to others.”
“Us?”
Jake showed palm. “You see.”
“What is the blue hat?”
Jake explained.
“Bugger,” Ugly said. “Some merchant! Some bandit! A nomad, without gold or silver, wading in guts.”
“Tell me another thing,” Jake said. “Once you did not molest decent people. If I make no trouble, will you leave these people alone?”
“I make no bargains with traitors,” Ugly said.
“They will feed you, and send you along to the next place.”
“The next place! And where is that?”
“I am not sure,” Jake said, bringing interest and friendship to his voice. “From here I think you can go south to Rawalpindi or Srinagar, and maybe west to Faizabad. They must meet a caravan from time to time, because they have barley, and sheets of metal.”
“Kashmir,” Ugly said. “A land of lakes, and dark women.”
“So you survived,” Jake said. “You must have been a good sergeant.”
“The best.” Ugly swilled beer. “Bugger! The best! I am thirty-nine years old and have been a soldier since nineteen twenty-seven, the last day of the third month, when I signed on with that weasel Chiang and marched north from Shanghai with him.”
“But you are not a Shanghai man.”
“No. Honan. I was a hand on the canal boats. Much travel.”
“And much since.”
“Much since.” Ugly darkened. “This comradely gossip will do you no good.” He snorted angrily and spat into the fire. “More beer.”
Jake obliged.
Late that night, after plenty of jollification, Tha-shi left Jake and went to Ugly’s bed. “He has no woman,” she whispered to Jake. “Every man must have a woman.”
On one elbow, Jake glowered into the fallen fire. The smoldering dung flared and hissed. Once more he waited for inner counsel. He tried to still all voices but the voices of these mountains and his own heart. He was rosy with the charas, and the voices seemed clear and simple.
“Yes then,” he said, and patted her. “Rain sweet dew upon him.” She bent to lick his lips, and slipped away. She was naked, and her buttocks gleamed in the low light; he smiled at them. They were old friends.
Ugly thrashed and exclaimed, protesting in Chinese, “He will kill me.”
Tha-shi did not understand; she soothed him.
“Tartar,” Ugly called, “is this one of your fool’s tricks?”
“It is no trick,” Jake said sleepily. “It is the way.”
Ugly sneered: “If you think this will save your life …”
“For that I will kill you,” Jake said. “For speaking thus and for even thinking thus. You are a loathsome pig and you wallow in the filth of your own diseased mind. May your fruit ripen and fall prematurely.” More calmly he went on: “It is the way here, and a good way for men who do not fear the affections and humors. Be good to her, do you hear me? Be good to her or I will gut you before I slaughter you.”
“Hsüüüü,” Ugly said in wonder.
Soon Tha-shi giggled. Jake did not mind. He was hazily content. He liked this Jake better than the old one.
In the morning Ugly seemed bewildered, almost timid. After the meal he spoke: “Yü. What I said last night.” He grimaced.
Jake left Ugly thinking, and went out to gather dung.
Late in the afternoon the tribe gathered, and Jake led Ugly forth. In new sheepskins and boots, with a new hat square on his head, Ugly looked almost dignified. He tried to swagger but soon gave it up.
Jake made his speech with pauses and gestures, like an old man recalling wars on a winter night. His voice rose and fell, now harsh and now soft. “This one and I have ridden together. We have crossed deserts together where horses could not survive, where the trails are marked by heaps of bones and the wells are full of tears.”
The tribe murmured and clapped at some of his finer words. “To find me he fought the mountains all winter. He lived in caves. We thought he was the yeti. He killed sheep and he is sorry for that. But he has done a great thing: how many men have fought the mountains in winter and won? He was imprisoned by passes solid with snow, and he heard no man’s voice for a season; and now the passes are clear, and alone he has made his way to his friend.”
And he may yet kill me and all of you, but that is a chance we must take. All I can promise is that he will kill me first.
Surly yet alert, Ugly resisted his soul. These were fine flocks and a rich people, much to be taken here, and he tried to concentrate on his memory of Momo, Mouse and Hao-k’an, to keep his rage and greed alive. But like all gentlemen and archers he respected style, and these honest and handsome people had plenty of that.
The foreigner looked good. A funny blue hat, and the tip of a scabbard beneath the sheepskin jacket. The Tartar.
But a scheming and treacherous Tartar, he thought fiercely. No better than a Qazaq. A good man in a fight, but a thief and murderer after all.
He squinted sidewise at this traitor.
Jake went on about Ugly’s size and strength, and his quickness of mind. The tribe was dividing: from the faces he guessed that there were many who would accept one stranger, that being the law of the mountains, but not two, that being an invasion or maybe a dilution of the blood or other nastiness.
And half of Jake’s mind was elsewhere: he was not fool enough to believe that one winter with these people had made a saint of him. He was a fighting man by habit, and it might come down to that: him and Ugly. He suppressed a tiny ripple of excitement.
But only a ripple. The deep joy of fighting was gone. A man fought for his life, but he was no longer sure that a man who would kill was worth keeping alive.
His brain grappled, and slowed. These outlying trails of his mind were little trod.
The decision was never made, because Khu-lat came ambling merrily down the valley, herding some tens of sheep. With Jake’s binoculars bouncing at his breast he seemed important and official. The Doctor sent two boys to take the sheep in charge, and waved Khu-lat to the council. “Where were you?”
“At the Bowl of Grass-in-Hanks, and beyond. Well. The stranger is a big one, and strong.”
“The question is, what to do with him. He is friend to Blue Hat.”
“There are more,” Khu-lat said. “With these glass eyes I saw them. Also I am hungry. It is one of those days. The air is clear and cold, and whips a man’s hunger.”
Jake asked, “More?”
“Yes,” Khu-lat told them. “I sat on the great knoll above the bowl and I could see for three valleys. I saw nine men and eleven ponies.” To the Doctor he said, “It is like Mintaka. Men from all over the world.”
“Give me the glass eyes,” Jake said. “In which wind and how far?”
Khu-lat extricated himself from the strap; Jake tossed the binoculars to Ugly. Khu-lat pointed with the whole arm: “This wind. With the glass eyes they were small.”
“How small?”
“Small as maggots. Smaller. Small as ants.”
“Faces?”
“No faces. Nor heads.”
“How many hills and valleys?”
“Two hills, two valleys.” He clucked in awe. “You have many friends.”
The Doctor, old Zang-aw, was not as pleased.
“What is this gossip?” Ugly complained.
So Jake told him.
“It can be no other,” Ugly said, back in Jake’s tent. “He is insane. His head is on backward.”
“They tracked you. You brought evil.”
“I came in search of evil,” Ugly said. “I came to wipe it out.”
“So did K’uang,” Jake said bitterly. “One man’s evil is another man’s religion.”
“All very poetic. But what now?”
“Well, there is no choice. Not for
me, anyway. Bugger all authorities!”
“No trouble,” Ugly said. “These are only soldiers.”
“Nine of them.”
“Let us smite the tyrants. The age of archers is passing, but we will leave a story or two.”
Jake said, “Good.” His blood quickened. “We will kill K’uang for Momo, Mouse and Hao-k’an.”
Ugly said, “We will kill K’uang for the pleasure, and because it is a virtuous deed. Now, how do we accomplish this? Can we decoy them onto that Unmelting Bridge of Snow, and blow it out? With a nest of grenades?”
“Never. Too solid. We have only four grenades.”
“We could tie down the releases with this yarn that they weave, and run a long strand to them and burn off the wool at the proper moment.”
“Blockhead,” Jake said. “The wool is oily and will not burn.”
“We could roll it in gunpowder. Break open cartridges.”
“And if it fails they are across the bridge and we have no grenades. You are too much the gentleman and archer and not enough the sergeant. One does not fight by luck but by brains and balls.”
“Dogs defile you,” Ugly said with his monstrous grin. “That is good talk to hear again.”
“What we will do is this,” Jake said. The two men squatted together in a corner of the tent; by the fire Tha-shi cooked. “We will use a herd of sheep as cover. Crawl among them or cling to their bellies.”
“Fool,” Ugly said. “We take out two or three and are then marooned among the muttons. Meantime it is raining sheepshit.”
Jake said gravely, “That is why we will not use yaks.”
Ugly’s laugh boomed, hraw-hraw-hraw! “Dogs defile you twice more,” he gurgled. “You are almost human.”
“Ambush,” Jake said, “and a cold night ahead. They will camp in the bowl, I think, hugging the walls and out of the wind.”
“Then we sleep out tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Bugger. No woman and no charas.”
“Afterward.”
“Ah well, afterward …” Ugly began.
Jake was filling a clip; he snapped a cartridge in and peered up. “Afterward what?”
“Nothing. We have no ponies.”
“We do this on foot.”
Ugly made teeth: “And so cannot run from them.”
“You can run if you want to,” Jake said. “Listen one listen: since Dushok, I have been leaving scabs behind me all over Asia, and losing friends as fast as I make them. Well, not again. You run if you want to.”
“I will not,” Ugly said. “I have passed enough time in caves, eating the wind, and the bumpkins going bald at the sight of me. Besides, you could not do it alone.”
Jake laughed. “These are only soldiers.” He set the clip on a skin, removed the bolt, and ran a patch through the barrel. He understood now that a man did not keep his weapons in order for no reason. His palms were sweaty and a pleasurable prickling warmed the backs of his knees. “Your weapons in order?”
“All in order. The stock is cracked and I have not much ammunition, but it will do.”
“Tomorrow you will have a prince’s choice of weapons and ponies,” Jake said, “unless you force me to kill you.”
“When a horse grows horns,” Ugly snarled. “I shed my milk teeth long since, and am not to be buggered twice by a pig’s egg.”
“Hsüüü, you sound healthy again,” Jake said. “Now listen, and I will frame out a counsel.”
“Defile his ancestors,” Ugly complained, “this is no pig’s egg, but a generalissimo.”
The people clustered, silent and fearful. Jake and Ugly stood before them, dressed for war. “So to the flocks,” Jake said to Zang-aw. “No one will harm you.” It was an easy promise. If harm came to them, Jake would be beyond reproaching.
The Doctor asked, “What will you do?”
“We will do what must be done,” Jake said.
The Doctor bowed his head and sighed. Jake went to Tha-shi. He stood before her and looked deep into the dark eyes. He touched his cheek to hers. They patted and stroked. “Tomorrow,” Jake said. Tha-shi lowered her eyes and did not speak.
There was a ripping within Jake. That he must leave her. That he would kill. That he could still fizz at the prospect of a good fight, and would never be a good man. Unless dead; and if it came to that, this was the best way.
Again he caressed her, this strong round woman, no longer young, this warmest and best that he had ever known. He embraced her, and buried his nose among the one hundred and eight plaits of hair that he had counted many times.
“Bandits should not marry,” Ugly said.
43
They slipped northeast along the wall of the valley, keeping to the shadows. “Sentries,” Ugly said.
Jake glassed the slopes. A westerly wind washed them. The sky glowed dusky blue.
“Bad weather would help.”
“No chance.”
“By morning?”
“No chance.”
They walked in silence.
“The knoll is where he would put a sentry. Or even camp there, to keep the high ground.”
“Then we wait lower down.”
They walked in silence. The mountains and meadows shaded purple. “We rest now,” Jake said. “We find them after dark. They are arrogant and will keep a fire alive for warmth.”
“Not arrogant,” Ugly said. “Foolish. They track phantoms.”
“It will be easy,” Jake said. “One man who knows what is about to happen is worth four who do not.”
“We could move in during the middle watch, no? The fire will dim their night vision.”
Jake propped his weapon against the rocky wall, and shifted the small bag of grenades to his lap. “But if we lose one or two at night, we become the hunted and they the hunters.”
“Dawn, then.”
“First we look one look.”
“That being so,” Ugly said, “I will sleep. Wake me without fail should lively events overtake us.”
Jake smiled at him. “You show great trust.”
“You need me. Two Tartars are better than one.”
“And two tigers.”
Starlight favored them, a vast spangle crowning the mountains; there was no moon. “It is time,” Ugly said. “The Hunter and his Dog are well to the west, and the Chariot of God is on end.”
“You call it that? I thought, the Dipper.”
“Both.”
They moved carefully now, skirting patches of crunchy snow. The glow of the campfire was faint; they saw it at the same moment, and stopped. “On the knoll,” Jake whispered. “They will have a sentry there, and another on the Unmelting Bridge of Snow.”
They edged forward, and up a small slope. “There. The bridge.”
“And the sentry.”
“I see him.” Jake caught him in the binoculars, a huddled shape in starlight. “Half asleep.”
“Then I must work west now.”
“In a little. Rest awhile.”
They sat. Ugly took the glasses, to place the man and the terrain. “We let the first two cross, and hit the others on the bridge. There will be two for sure?”
“Three times have I seen him on the march. Each time, two scouts out wide. You saw them.”
“Yes.” Ugly returned the glasses. “I have remembered something. A thing I must tell you.”
“Now is the time,” Jake said lightly. “Tomorrow I may not be listening.”
“Or I talking,” Ugly said. “Well, it is this, and I hope it will not spoil your day. The fact is that the price on my head is now fifty ounces of gold.”
“Oh, you braggart!” Jake said. “To humiliate me now! Unless,” he asked hopefully, “the price on my head has been raised?”
“It has not,” Ugly said firmly. “Thirty ounces alive.”
“It is the discrimination against foreigners,” Jake explained. “The insulting Chinese prejudice.” After a moment he went on: “Is it really such a life?
You never tire of it?”
“Pride,” Ugly said. “Yes, I tire of it, but it is my life, and pride keeps me going.”
“Pride,” Jake said. “Not all of it is to be proud of.”
“There is that,” Ugly conceded. “Possibly I did not enjoy that with the bride.”
“Or I running out.”
“This winter I wanted only to kill you and then quit.”
“Time for that tomorrow,” Jake said. “No foolishness tonight. The risk is too great.”
Ugly was hurt. “What do you take me for?”
“Well, what are you?”
Ugly sighed heavily. “Yes. One is what one is, it seems.”
“So it seems to me too,” Jake said. “This rifle is my friend, and fits my hand like an old hammer.”
“And you will yet drive a few nails with it,” Ugly said. “Well,” and he stood up, “time to go. Give me a couple of grenades.”
“Yes. Take a wide swing down there and stick to cover. The ground rises to the west. Find a hollow. At first light the wind will doubtless draw from the west.”
“Advice,” Ugly said bitterly. “Instructions from a bull calf. I am unworthy.”
“No need to blow the mustache,” Jake said. “We may yet be friends.”
“When the walnut whistles,” Ugly said.
“Then bugger yourself,” Jake said. “We have still one good fight to fight.”
“Two,” Ugly said. “See you tomorrow.”
“If that is how it must be,” Jake said, “see you tomorrow.”
Dawn was a tricky time, the vision lagging behind the light, humps and hollows like horses and yaks. Jake lay snug enough, well hidden in the spring grass and with a good field of fire.
They would take out two each, quickly, in the center of the line; with luck one would be K’uang. The scouts would race back, and the other three would scatter. Long snap shots then, if necessary the ponies.
It was no use unless every man of them died. Maybe they would panic and mill, and he and Ugly could pot them like the old buffalo hunters.
Range about two hundred yards. I hope that slob is not straight across from me.
When it is finished he will lie waiting.
Jake heard voices.
A clear morning. Jake grinned: the sun was more in Ugly’s eyes than his own.
Above them a flight of bar-headed geese whirred through the morning. A bird of good omen.
The Chinese Bandit Page 29