Eight Skilled Gentlemen

17

We paused only long enough for Master Li to remove the clay from his face and make himself presentable. Then I turned the donkey cart into the entrance of the Celestial Master’s house, and my heart sank when I saw the outer courtyard crammed with soldiers from the Black Watch, which is the militia guarding the important eunuchs of the Forbidden City. Clearly something was wrong and Master Li didn’t waste time. He simply climbed out and marched toward the door yelling orders right and left as though he’d arrived to take charge, and we strode inside like conquering generals.

As we reached the inner court a body was being carried out on a litter. One foot protruded from beneath a cloak. It was enough to tell me that the body was not that of the Celestial Master, but of a woman, and then I realized who she was. On the foot was a silly little embroidered slipper with a pattern of chipmunks hopping through flowers, and I recalled the young maid who had been carrying a sick dog on a silken pillow. Master Li held up a hand and stopped the procession.

“The Celestial Master?”

“Not here, sir. He’s been away and doesn’t know about this yet.”

An oily eunuch had come out and seen Master Li, and he trotted forward as the old man lifted the cloak and looked at the body. Master Li’s back blocked my view, and I saw him stiffen, and then he gently replaced the cloak. His eyes lifted to the eunuch, who seemed to be the official in charge.

“The blood isn’t fresh. When did this happen?” Master Li asked in a calm, unemotional voice.

The eunuch licked his lips nervously. An old woman shoved her way through the soldiers, and I remembered her as the one who had turned us away the last time. Her eyes were red and her voice was hoarse.

“She was murdered yesterday,” she said. “We thought she had gone to her family, and we only found her body a few hours ago, but the men who killed her came yesterday. I know. I admitted them myself. They had a note from the Celestial Master allowing them to enter.”

“Adoptive daughter, can you read?” Master Li asked gently.

“No, Venerable Sir, but the Celestial Master always draws a little bird on messages sent to the house, and I saw the bird,” the old lady said. “They called poor Little Numskull out to the garden, but then I was busy and forgot them. Just now we found Numskull’s body in the boat shed down by the lake.”

“Could you identify the men if you saw them again?” Master Li asked.

“Yes!” the old lady said vehemently. “How can I ever forget? The leader looked just like a hog, and the two men with him were like a hyena and a jackal.”

I felt sick to my stomach as I remembered those creatures back at the cave, first murdering the clerk and then laughing at dirty stories while dog grease ran down their jowls. Master Li had pointed out there had to be a spy in the Celestial Master’s household, and had the little maid called Numskull discovered the spy, and was this her reward? Master Li was looking thoughtfully at the eunuch.

“The Celestial Master’s house and office are under imperial jurisdiction. Do you have proper authority to investigate the murder?”

The eunuch was suddenly self-assured and oozing honey. “This worthless one has indeed been so honored,” he said, bowing to the ground, and he presented a scroll with imperial seals all over it.

Master Li glanced at the document and handed it back. Foxes would investigate the death of a hen, but what could he do about it? “Very well. Carry on,” he said crisply, and he swiveled on his heels and I followed him back outside to the donkey cart.

“Sir, was it very bad?” I asked as I drove away.

“The killing? She was sliced to pieces,” the sage said gruffly.

“Bastards!”

“If you mean Hog and Hyena and Jackal I agree, but they didn’t kill the girl,” Master Li said.

“What?” I yelped.

“They may have taken her, and they may have held her, but they didn’t kill her. Those animals would have hacked and chopped like amateur butchers, and the man who killed Numskull was a master of the art.”

“Do you mean we have to deal with an insane surgeon on top of everything else?” I said weakly.

“Not at all,” the sage said. “We have to deal with a very competent fellow whose craftsmanship in slaughter is as unmistakable as fine calligraphy, but first we’re going to pay a call on a puppeteer. Ox, don’t forget that the spy in the Celestial Master’s household might have learned that Yen Shih and his daughter have been helping us, and helping us could be an unhealthy occupation.”

Yen Shih did well in his trade and his house was large and comfortable, although on the wrong side of the Goldfish Ponds southeast of Heaven’s Bridge. Nobody was in the courtyard, and my heart began to hurt when nobody answered the door, but then I heard the sound of a hammer in back, and cheerful whistling. We found Yen Shih at his wagon beside the stable, whacking away at a mechanism for a new puppet by the light of a lantern.

“Yu Lan’s off again on shamanka business and I couldn’t sleep,” he said after greeting us. “She’ll be gone all night. Anything interesting come up?”

Master Li tersely explained what had transpired, and Yen Shih appeared to hang on every word. I’ve mentioned that his horribly disfigured face couldn’t register normal emotions, but his eyes and body could be eloquent. He was furious when Master Li told about the peculiar murder plot, and his rage was barely contained when he heard of the fate of little Numskull.

“You say those three animals didn’t kill her,” the puppeteer said quietly enough, but his hands were shaking with the urge to strangle somebody. “Who did?”

“We’re going to talk to him about it now, if you’d care to come along,” Master Li said. “There’s something else I want to do while I’m there, so it will take a little time.”

“I have all night,” Yen Shih said grimly, and he hopped up on the cart seat beside me.

Half an hour later Master Li and Yen Shih and I were admitted to a gloomy room in a gloomier tower that squatted at the end of the Wailing Wall behind the chopping block at the Vegetable Market. Devil’s Hand was red-faced and sweating and drunk, and he spilled wine over the big wooden table he sat at as he shoved a jar toward Master Li.

“Hell of a time we live in, Kao,” he growled. “The whole world has gone mad. Monsters pop up to ruin my swing, and the swords won’t forgive me for missing, and people hand me horrible orders to carry out, and I have to—Listen! Listen to them! They’ve been like this ever since that vampire ghoul wrecked the record!”

He meant listen to the swords, and my blood was running cold as I heard the hard mocking jangling sound of clashing steel. The Chief Executioner of Peking is entrusted with the four greatest swords the world has ever known: First Lord through Fourth Lord, children of the incestuous union between the male sword Gan-jiang and his sister sword Mo-ye, who had been forged from the liver and kidneys of the marvelous metal-eating hare of K’un-lun Mountain. When not in use the swords hang by velvet cords attached to their handles in a small tower room with a window overlooking the chopping block, and on windy nights people who pass the Wailing Wall can hear the four bright blades sing of sanguinary triumphs. They were singing now, mockingly, and the executioner buried his head in his hands.

“Make them stop, Kao, can’t you? Tell them it wasn’t my fault I missed. I didn’t mean to disgrace them,” Devil’s Hand sniffled.

“Certainly,” Master Li said. “You’ve forgotten that royalty must be addressed in writing; only those of equal rank can speak directly to princes. Ox, remember your manners and ask permission to read this appeal, and I’m sure the swords will forgive our friend.”

He scribbled a note and handed it to me and I trotted up the stairs to the tiny tower room where the great swords hung on their pegs. I unfolded the note.

“Close the goddamn window.”

The glittering blades made small screeching sounds as they rubbed the stone wall behind me. I shuddered as I looked out and down to the chopping block, and then I shut the window—which was slightly ajar—and fastened the catch and the swords stopped complaining.

“Well, is Devil’s Hand forgiven?” Master Li asked as I trotted back down.

“Yes, sir. They say the circumstances of his error were extreme, and they will protest no more,” I said.

“Thank Buddha,” the executioner whispered. He swallowed a pint of alcohol and opened another jar. “That’s only one demon off my back, Kao. There are others,” he said gloomily.

“Yes. Like that silly little serving girl. That was a Slow-Slash sentence?” Master Li asked.

“What a world, Kao, what a world,” Devil’s Hand muttered. “Slow-Slash is no joke, and on top of that I had to put up with those three animals as witnesses. The bastards snickered and joked as though they were at a fair, but I rammed it to them anyway. After the first few seconds that poor girl didn’t feel a thing, and they never knew the difference.”

Yen Shih had been silent and motionless. Now he looked up quickly. “You used the bladder?” he asked.

“Damn right,” the executioner said.

“Good man,” said Master Li. “Explain it to Ox, who has question marks in his eyes.”

“I’ll do better than that.” Devil’s Hand lurched to his feet and fumbled in a drawer and pulled out something like a pig bladder with peculiar knots tied in it. He slipped it beneath his left arm. His right hand flickered, and as if by magic a long slim blade had appeared in it. Then with another flick the blade was gone. “An executioner distracts the witnesses for half a second and the victim’s sufferings are all over,” he said in a solemn lecture voice slurred by alcohol. “The witnesses don’t know the difference, because the executioner has the Squealbaby under his arm, and he makes another long slow slash…”

Even Master Li and the puppeteer jumped, and they knew what was coming. I almost hit the ceiling as a hideous horrible scream smashed against my eardrums, and then another one.

“Short rapid squeezes for a man, long slow ones for a woman,” Devil’s Hand said. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve used the Squealbaby on every Slow-Slash for the past ten years, and that’s whether the family’s bribed me or not.”

“You do beautiful work whether it’s blades, bladders, or both,” Master Li said. “I’m certainly not complaining, but I would like to take a look at the execution order, if you don’t mind.”

“Mind? Why should I mind? It’s like I said, Kao, the world has gone mad. Everybody’s crazy, and this proves it if nothing else will.”

He fumbled in another drawer and tossed Master Li an official document, and the sage held it close to the light for a long moment. Then he folded it and handed it back.

“My friend, I’m about to add to your opinion of the world’s sanity,” Master Li said. “I want to confer with an eminent gentleman, and on the way over I even bothered to compose a document making it official. You can add this to your collection of lunacies.”

He took a piece of paper from his robe and passed it over, and Devil’s Hand stared at it as he might view a cobra.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Ah, but I am.”

“Kao, you might just as well invite the Black Plague to tea! Or take a swim in boiling oil! I’m a killer, Kao. That’s my job and I’m good at it, but I turn faint and pale when this creature—”

“Would you mind?” Master Li interrupted, adding a slight official intonation to his voice.

Devil’s Hand turned and lurched out the door, and I could hear him muttering “Crazy! Whole damn world!” as he stamped away down a hall. Master Li turned to the puppeteer.

“Yen Shih, I think it might be a good idea for you to try to trace your daughter’s whereabouts and stay with her,” he said quietly. “I don’t quite know what to make of it, but one thing is sure: this affair is entering a rather nasty phase.”

The puppeteer raised an eyebrow.

“The execution order for that little maid specified Slow-Slash,” Master Li said. “I know the signature well, and it was authentic. The order was issued by the Celestial Master.”

I stared at him, stunned and uncomprehending. Yen Shih stood as if frozen in place. Then he took a deep breath and spread his hands wide apart. “The executioner had it right. The whole world’s gone mad,” he said, and he turned and walked rapidly out the door, and as his footsteps faded away I could hear his soft baritone voice fading with them, singing to the sand-scoured sky.

I walked to the table and picked up one of the jars and swallowed some of the raw alcohol that Devil’s Hand and Master Li called wine, and after I stopped coughing I felt a little better, although not much. The executioner was returning, and by the sound of it he was dragging a prisoner in chains.

“You’re ten times as crazy as the rest of the world, Kao!” Devil’s Hand shouted.

“Why? For seeking the company of a splendid fellow who’s as cute as a little lamb and twice as gentle?” Master Li said sweetly.

The executioner and his prisoner came through the door, and I reeled. The soft squat body, the froglike posture, the saliva spraying from fat flabby lips…

“Three times as gentle,” said Sixth Degree Hosteler Tu.