Perhaps I could find something in China-town.
For the moment, she had enough on her list to occupy the rest of the day. Tonight-Ah, tonight there would be opera! She would sit in a private box, a luxury she had never, ever indulged in! It would be glorious, and as she gazed at the dress she had laid out, she had to laugh as she recalled the last time she had imagined herself attending the opera in San Francisco.
One could have made that the culminating scene of an opera itself-the poor, embittered, lonely heroine, expiring to the glorious melodies of Puccini! The girl that had made those plans of despair was so far removed from Rose as she was now that Rose didn't even recognize her.
Strange, how much difference a little hope makes. She gazed on the dress with unabashed pleasure and a little greed. What woman wouldn't revel in the prospect of wearing a silk-velvet gown of deep red, trimmed in sparkling jet beadwork three inches deep, with silk elbow-length opera gloves and satin shoes dyed to match? Her gown for tomorrow night was simpler, suiting the venue: sky-blue silk with handmade lace.
With her list in hand, she ventured down the stairs to find Snyder waiting for her patiently in the front entry-way. "With your permission, Miss Hawkins, I have arranged for the driver to deliver you to the occulist and return here with you. On your return, we can have luncheon awaiting you, and afterwards I shall guide you to your various destinations." He held out his hand for her list, which she gave to him, quite impressed with his efficiency.
"We can accomplish all of these within a few blocks of each other," he told her. "I believe you will wish to spend the entire day in China-town, so we will save that for the morrow. I have arranged for your new spectacles to be delivered here tomorrow, should you require them."
Goodness, he has everything organized! No wonder Jason keeps him here!
She could not possibly be in better hands. With that assurance, she stepped out the front door and into the sun.
She didn't need the maid to wake her the next morning; she bounced out of bed on the strength of her own newly-found energy and enthusiasm. The opera had been glorious, everything she could have hoped for. Tonight would be pure confection. And between then and now, she would be exploring mysterious China-town.
She dressed quickly, and bolted her breakfast and yet, by the time she skipped downstairs, Snyder was already waiting for her.
He licked his lips as if he wanted to say something. She waited, giving him a chance to speak.
"Master Cameron himself patronizes a Chinese apothecary, Miss Hawkins," he said at last. "He is said to be a very good one. Would you have any objection to visiting him, rather than seeking out your own?"
"Not at all," she replied, puzzled by the question.
Although she waited a little further, he did not elaborate, simply opening the door for her.
It did not take long for the driver to reach their goal, and even at this early hour the city was awake and functioning. By the time they reached China-town it was obvious that the inhabitants of this district were accustomed to rising before dawn, for they were already hard at work at any number of tasks.
Walking in China-town was like walking in another world entirely. Most of the Chinese here wore their traditional dress, though some affected European-style suits and dresses; she even caught sight of a few unfortunate damsels tottering along on tiny, bound feet. Strange aromas filled the air-incense, odd cooking-smells, odors she could not define. And everywhere, the twittering syllables of a myriad of Chinese dialects fell upon her ears.
Snyder led her to a tiny, dark shop with a storefront window displaying bones, dried fish, the preserved body-parts of any number of animals, and bunches of dried herbs. The gentleman behind the counter looked precisely like an ancient Mandarin noble except that his fingernails were of normal length. He wore a round, blue brocade hat surmounted by a button, and a matching quilted, high collared jacket; his thin, scholarly face was graced with a long, white moustache.
But when he spoke, he sounded exactly like Doctor Lee-his words were formed in a crisp, precise, Oxford accent.
"Mr. Snyder!" he exclaimed. "How good it is to see you! Has Master Cameron an order for me?"
He extended his hand across his counter-top, and Snyder shook it gravely. "Master Cameron does not have an order, but this young lady who is assisting him in his research does, if you would be so kind as to give her the benefit of your expertise." Snyder then turned and indicated Rose. "Master Pao, Miss Hawkins."
She extended her hand, and Master Pao took it with a smile that was neither servile nor ingratiating. His grip was firm and quite strong, and she had the feeling that if she had not been wearing gloves, she would have found his hand to be warm, the skin of his palm dry. It was, as her father would have said, a "proper handshake."
"I would be happy to assist a colleague of Master Cameron," the apothecary said politely. "How can I be of service?"
She explained her needs circumspectly, taking out what was left of her "special tea" and handing it over the counter to him. At once, his eyes brightened with interest. He examined the herbal mixture, stirring it with a fingertip, sniffing it, crushing some between his fingers and sniffing again, and finally tasting it.
"This will be no problem to replicate," he said, finally, looking up at her with his bright, black eyes, "Although it is not a recipe I have prescribed. Now, you said you also needed something for times of long and difficult research?"
She nodded, and clasped her hands together on the countertop. "I believe that there will be a great deal of work ahead of us in the next few months, and I fear I will be working long hours and sleeping little. If you can manage something, a tea perhaps, that will give me the ability to work these hours without falling asleep over my books, that is what I need. Something stronger than coffee, but not something that will keep me awake when I finally get a chance to go to sleep."
Master Pao pursed his lips and fingered his snowy moustache. "This could take a little time," he said, "and in addition-I should like to concoct an alternate recipe to the one you wished me to duplicate." He looked up at Snyder, and something unspoken passed between them.
"Miss Hawkins, if you will be so kind as to wait until I return before venturing further, I have an errand I must pursue," Snyder said unexpectedly. "If you will both excuse me?"
And before she could reply, he turned and left the shop.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Hawkins," the apothecary said apologetically, "But Mr. Snyder knows that if I am to fill your needs properly, I must ask you a few questions, some of which may be a trifle personal. That, no doubt, is why he left, to save you a blush at having a stranger party to your private matters."
She relaxed a little, for this was precisely the sort of questions that her father's friend had wished to ask her, and she was oddly certain that Snyder would never have left her alone with someone who might offend her, inadvertently or otherwise. "You are a doctor, of course," she replied, meaning to give him the accolade whether or not he "qualified" by Western standards. "I am sure you would ask me nothing without having a good reason for it."
"Ah-and not only am I a physician in the ways of my own people, I am also a physician trained in your western medicine," he said, with another of his warm smiles. "I have my diploma from Harvard Medical School, in point of fact, and I honor both the Hippocratic Oath and the vows of my own people regarding the sacred duties of the physician. Now you will find a stool there behind the door. If you will take a seat, we can begin."
She found the stool, a high, backless affair, precisely where he pointed, and set it before the counter. The questions he asked were not all that "personal," and she felt no embarrassment in answering them although she thought of herself as being unusually candid for a female, and poor Snyder probably would have been embarrassed to be present. Finally Master Pao seemed satisfied, and began making up packets of herbs, his hands flying among the various drawers and jars behind the counter. He never seemed to measure anything, and yet she was
certain he was portioning each herb with absolute exactness. She watched him, rapt with fascination.
"Do I take it that you are assisting Master Cameron with his Magickal researches, Miss Hawkins?" he asked, as casually as if he were asking if she preferred the color blue over the color green.
She started, then stared at him, quite taken aback, and not certain how to reply. Master Pao looked up at her and caught her in that dumbfounded expression, and laughed softly.
"I am the Earthmaster here in the Land of the Golden Gate, Miss Hawkins," he said, very quietly. "We have been colleagues, Jason and I, since the day he arrived. We exchanged services; I reinforced his townhouse and mansion against the earthquake, and he made my shop fire-resistant. The imprint of Magick is upon you, though you yourself cannot yet see it."
"But-I have done nothing but read in his books!" she exclaimed involuntarily. "How could I-"
"You have read the instructions of Apprenticeship, and thus have taken the first true steps towards Apprenticeship," he chided gently, as if she had missed something terribly obvious. "Whether you progress further along the path or not, any Master who knows of your association with Jason will see that invisible mark. Some, an exceptionally sensitive Master of Air for instance, would even see it without that knowledge."
She bit her lip, not at all certain that she wanted such a "mark" upon her. This was not something she had bargained for when she began this! Would she always be so "marked," or would it gradually fade once she disassociated herself from Magick and its practitioners? Would this cause her even more difficulties?
No use complaining now, I suppose. I volunteered for this. Jason only wanted me to read and translate specific passages in specific books, and I suspect that if I had stuck to that, there would be no such "mark" upon me.
"I only mention this, because you should know certain things," the old man continued, with an expression of gentle concern. "Master Jason has collected some powerful enemies, as all who traffic in Magick eventually must." He chuckled, then, his concern softening. "Even so inoffensive a creature as myself can collect enemies, I fear. But if these enemies become aware of your association with Jason, they will seek to use you against him."
"How?" she asked, suspiciously. Now what is he at? Does he think to offer himself as my " protector"-for a cost? Tales of evil Chinese "white slavers" flashed through her mind for a moment.
"Nothing coercive, at least, not in all likelihood," the old man said soothingly. "No wise Magician exposes his powers too much before the multitudes; when people, especially handsome young women, are suddenly missing, the police begin to look suspiciously about." He shrugged. "And at any rate, cooperation is much more easily obtained with charm, tact, persuasion and ..." He paused, and raised one eyebrow. "... and gifts? You should know that this may befall you, and you should be wary of men with glib tongues and blandishments. Be even warier of those who offer you much for what seems to be very trifling information. If Jason has taken you even a little into his confidence, what you know already could conceivably harm him."
She flushed, and shook her head a little. "I doubt that anyone is likely to think of me as anything other than insignificant," she replied crisply. "What I am doing is mere translation; if I have been reading certain texts, it is only to assist my own ability to translate. Mr. Cameron could certainly hire another translator at any time, and with very little effort on his part." She strove to control her blushes. "Quite frankly, although I have seen just enough to make me a believer in the power of Magick, I very much doubt that Mr. Cameron has 'taken me into his confidence' at all."
Master Pao gave her an oblique glance, but said nothing. His hands, however, continued to fly among the drawers and boxes of his herbs, until at last he had made up a fourth packet, this one wrapped carefully in red paper.
"Here, in the blue, is the replication of your previous recipe," he said, pushing the packet across to her. "When you look to run short, you need only have an order sent to me, and I will send another supply." He pushed the second packet, wrapped in green, across the counter to stand beside the first. "Here is the recipe that I would recommend for those same complaints. Try it, and see if you find it superior." The third packet, in white, joined the other two. "And here are the herbs you asked for an increase in stamina. Now-these will not act precisely as you requested. They will not keep you awake when you need slumber." "What will they do, then?" she asked, both a trifle disappointed and a trifle annoyed.
His face took on the expression of a stern teacher. "They will do much better than forcing you to stay wakeful. Such medicines are dangerous, and easily abused, and I do not prescribe them unless there is no other choice. This recipe must be drunk faithfully at every meal and at bedtime, and it will enable you to have a full night's sleep in only four hours' time." He chuckled again at her reaction, a bitten-off exclamation of pleasure.
"I could wish I'd had such a wonder long ago!" she exclaimed. "I have never been able to function on less than eight hours of sleep! This is wonderful!" She reached for the packet; he held his hand on it, keeping her from snatching it up immediately.
"There is, as in all such things, a price to be paid," he warned her. "Your sleep will be-compressed, as it were. This will mean certain changes in your dreams, which may be unpleasant changes if you are not used to recalling your dreams. Your dreams will become very vivid, and very intense, impossible to forget. They may be very disturbing, and possibly-possibly you will see things that will cause you unease. And although you will only require four hours of slumber, you must have that time; you will fall asleep over your books if you attempt to stay wakeful for more than thirty-six hours. The final price, however, is one, I think, no woman would quarrel over." He actually winked at her. "You will find that you use energy as if you were exercising heavily. You will be very hungry, and you should assuage that hunger without fear of gaining weight. As the natives of the North say, 'Sleep is food, and food is sleep.' And you should do without this prescription when you are taking the herbs in the blue or green packet. They do not mix well together."
She nodded solemnly, and picked up all three packets. "I understand-but what, exactly, do you mean when you say that my dreams will be disturbing?"
He stroked his long moustache and beard for a moment, as if he was taking great care in choosing his words. "Several of these herbs are known among the people of India for what is called 'opening the third eye.' They enable one to see the Unseen, the past, or what is yet to be. If you have any such abilities slumbering within you, they may well awake at the touch of these medicines, and you may not like the result. It is a hard thing to see the future; many find such knowledge a burden too great to bear."
For a moment, a chill lay across her shoulders, as if a cold shadow fell there. Then she laughed, if a trifle uneasily. "I doubt that I will have any such difficulties, Master Pao," she replied, with emphasis intended to convince herself as much as him. "I fear that I am as prosaic as a loaf of bread, and as psychically aware as a paving-stone."
Once again, he bestowed an oblique glance upon her. "You give yourself too little credit," he said. Then he shook his head, and passed over the last, red-wrapped packet. "This, however, is not for you. It is for Jason-if you can get him to take it. He is that most dangerous of patients, the ones who prefer to diagnose and dose their own ailments. He needs these medicines-I know what he is doing to himself, in part, at least, and he is as a wolf who is so intent on the hunt that he will run until he collapses."
She accepted the third packet dubiously. "I have no idea how I could ever get him to take medicine. I cannot possibly promise anything."
"I know that. I also know that you are more likely to try than that wretched creature du Mond," Master Pao said, with a touch of irritation in his voice as he mentioned the secretary's name. "If you have the opportunity, I beg you to use it. I fear that he is doing himself mischief, and I hope that these medicines will counteract that mischief."
She nodded, and put th
e packet beside the other three in her handbag. As she slipped from the stool, a thought occurred to her; how was it that Master Pao was so conversant with Western Magick? "I was not aware that the Orient had the same system of Magick as the West. I never heard of Chinese Salamanders, Undines, Sylphs and Gnomes," she offered, and waited for his reply.
"We do not," was his ready answer. "Or at least, our disciplines are quite different, although the ends are the same. We have something so like the Masters of the Elements that I simply use the title of Master of Earth for the sake of convenience. My true title is something-quite different."
The arch way he said that made her pause and turn to look him full in the face. He wanted her to ask, and so she obliged him. "Oh?" she said. "And what is that title?"
He smiled, and for the first time, she sensed the power that this man held, coiled tightly and invisibly, inside him. Irresistibly, she thought of the World Snake, the great Worm, who encircled the world, and whose restless stirrings caused the earth to shake.
The Fire Rose em-1 Page 23