Everything Under the Sky (38 page)

And indeed he gave it a good knock, and no arrow flew through the air. “This is where the dance begins,” he announced as he got to his feet.

“Shouldn't you test the remaining tiles just to make sure you're right?” I suggested as we all stood behind him.

“The remaining tiles, madame, will set off arrows,” he said. “Are you sure? Then how do you plan to move forward?”

“Just be patient, Auntie. Let's see what happens.”

Master Red, in a surprising show of bravery, lifted one leg and then the other, setting one foot on each of the two contiguous tiles that hadn't rattled the little metallic balls in the dragons’ mouths. He had done it. He was inside and apparently safe.

“Get down on the floor, children,” I ordered as I lay flat and watched Lao Jiang follow suit. “Master Red, first test the next tile you're going to step on, and try to get out of the line of fire, please.”

Since none of us dared lift our heads, we couldn't see what was happening. All we heard were Master Red's steps and, so far, not a single whistling arrow. His footsteps moved farther away as he continued through the hall.

“Are you all right, Master Red Jade?” I shouted.

“Fine, thank you,” he replied. “I'm almost at the first set of stairs.”

“How are we going to follow him?” my niece asked worriedly. “I suppose he'll tell us what to do once he's at the other end.”

“But it'll be so easy to make a mistake,” she objected. “One wrong tile and it's all over.”

She was right. We had to change our strategy.

“Master Red Jade!” I shouted. “Could you come back?”

“Come back?” he asked. His voice sounded very far away.

“Yes, please,” I asked. We waited patiently, without moving, until we heard him arrive. Only then did we stand up with a sigh of relief.

“That went well, didn't it?” Lao Jiang asked, satisfied. “Very well.” Master Red nodded. “The Steps of Yu work.”

“Here, Master Red Jade,” I said, handing him my box of pencils. “Mark the tiles that are safe with a colored X so we'll know where to step.”

“But you can just follow me,” he objected. “You're not in any danger. Come with me now.”

I didn't like the idea. I didn't like it at all.

“Master Red Jade is right,” the antiquarian said. “Let's just go with him.”

“I'll mark the tiles in any event,” I said stubbornly, refusing to admit that this was going to be impossible, “in case we have to turn around and run out.”

That's how we had the great honor of learning to follow the Steps of Yu, a four-thousand-year-old magic dance that was capable of taking ancient Chinese shamans up to heaven.

Lao Jiang followed Master Red, I went next, then Fernanda, and finally Biao. When my turn came, I was shaking from head to toe as I stepped on the first two tiles. The next step was diagonally to the left on just one foot and then hopping on the same foot two tiles ahead. Next was another diagonal step to the right and three more hops on the right foot; another three on the left; three more on the right; another three on the left; and at last, both feet next to one another, like at the beginning. Master Red told us this first sequence was called “Steps on the Heavenly Scale” and the next was “Pacing the Big Dipper,” which consisted of one jump diagonally to the right, one more ahead, another to the left, and three ahead, as if drawing the shape of a ladle.

Basically, those were the Steps of Yu, and repeating both series, we reached the first staircase, where we were relieved to find no crossbows aimed at us. By this time we'd retrieved my bag and Biao's, but not Fernanda's. It had fallen too far from where our dance had taken us. The girl was sulking and looked at me so insistently that I knew I had to somehow get that bag or put up with her reproaches for the rest of my life. Since this would clearly have been harmful to my health, I madly tried to think of a way to rescue that lost bundle. I consulted with Lao Jing in a whisper. After assuring me that such an effort was ridiculous, he grudgingly said he'd take care of it. The antiquarian opened up his bag of tricks and pulled out the hundred-treasure chest as well as a very thin, extremely long line of some sort. He tied a knot around one of the gold pieces from the chest, a pendant earring on what looked like a fishhook.

“If you catch it with that,” I warned, “you'll set off all the crossbows when you drag the bag across the tiles.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We'd better lie flat on the stairs,” I said, turning to address the others. Everyone hurried to obey me. There were only three stairs, but since they were so long, we all fit on the first and safest one. Lao Jiang moved to the left of the bag and onto the second stair, so that when he tossed the line, it was nearly horizontal. He made his first attempt. Luckily, the earring didn't weigh enough to cause the balls of the seismoscope to vibrate, because the antiquarian's aim left a lot to be desired. When he finally hooked Fernanda's bag, we heard the unpleasant sound of chains and the sharp whistling of arrows just above our heads.

We reached the second set of stairs and rested. The light wasn't as good there as it had been at the start. That final stretch was an absolute nightmare. I sweated buckets from the effort, the nerves, and the very reasonable fear of making a mistake. The lines between the tiles were hard to distinguish, and we took each step guided purely by intuition, but we made it. Everyone arrived safe and sound, and I don't remember a nicer sensation than putting my foot on the first of many stairs leading up to the altar and the coffin. I was overjoyed. The children were fine, Master Red and Lao Jiang were fine, and I was fine. It had been the longest, most exhausting dance of my life.

The children shouted enthusiastically and ran up the stairs to look at the coffin. For a moment I was afraid something might happen to them, that there would be some other death trap on that first level of the mausoleum, but Sai Wu hadn't mentioned anything of the sort in the
jiance,
so I decided not to worry. The adults followed the children, just as pleased but more restrained. “Haste shortens your life,” Ming T'ien had said. Master Red, Lao Jiang, and I were the very embodiment of moderation at this thrilling time.

The stone altar on which the coffin lay was shaped like a double bed, only three times as big. There was not only a black-lacquered rectangular casket finely decorated with dragons, tigers, and clouds of gold, but also fifteen or twenty medium-size coffins separated by those little tea tables that sit on Chinese sofas. Around the coffin, beautiful brocade cloths covered pyramids of something, and several dozen jade soldiers and fantastic animals were lined up all over the surface. There were also ceramic vessels, mother-of-pearl brushes and ornamental combs, lovely burnished bronze mirrors, cups, and knives inlaid with turquoise. Everything was covered in just a thin layer of dust, as if it had been cleaned a week earlier.

Taking great care not to break anything, Lao Jiang leaped nimbly onto the altar to open the coffin. He undid the latch, but the lid was too heavy for him to lift on his own. Biao jumped up beside him, and although the two of them were able to lift it an inch or so, they finally had to let it go. Master Red, Fernanda, and I climbed up onto the altar as well, and this time, between the five of us, we were able to open the stubborn sarcophagus, only to discover that it contained just an impressive set of armor. Made of small stone plates joined together like fish scales, it was complete with shoulder guards, breast and back plates, and a long skirt. There was even a helmet with an opening for the face and a neck guard. It may well have been a funeral offering of great worth, a unique display of Qin-dynasty imperial armor, as Lao Jiang asserted, but I got the distinct impression that the First Emperor was playing a joke, thumbing his nose at whoever opened this false sarcophagus.

We let the lid fall before it broke our arms and got down off the altar, ready to examine the rest of the treasures. Lao Jiang seemed impatient to take a look at our find and was the first to remove the cloths and open the chests. The pyramid shapes were piles of little medallions, similar to the weights used on grocery-store scales (although these were made of pure gold), and the chests were filled with priceless jewel-studded pieces. There was an absolute fortune there.

“We've done it,” I murmured.

“Do you know what these figures are made of?” the antiquarian asked as he picked up one of the little soldiers that dotted the altar.

“Jade,” Fernanda replied.

“Yes and no. It is jade, but a magnificent type of jade called
yufu
that no longer exists. This soldier would be worth between fifteen and twenty thousand Mexican silver dollars.”

“That's wonderful!” I exclaimed. “We've got what we need! We don't have to go any further. We can divide all this up and leave right away!”

It was over. The madness had come to an end. I now had the money I needed to pay Rémy's debts.

“It's not that much once it's divided into six, Elvira.”

“Six?” I asked in surprise.

“You, Wudang Monastery, Paddy Tichborne, the Kuomintang, the Communist Party, and me. After all this effort, I might as well keep a few things for my antiquities shop. Let me warn you as well that the Kuomintang will want to recoup its expenses for our trip.”

Well, Lao Jiang had set his political idealism aside and fallen into the grip of avarice. I could have sworn I saw it written all over his face.

“It's still plenty, even divided into six, Lao Jiang,” I objected. “We have more than enough. Let's get out of here.”

“It might be plenty to you, Elvira, but it's not much for two political parties that are struggling to build a new, modern nation on what's left of one that's famished and all but destroyed. And let's not forget that Wudang has so many mouths to feed and all those repairs that need doing. At least that's what Abbot Xu Benshan told me in the letter he sent with Masters Red Jade and Black Jade when he accepted my offer of a portion of the treasure in exchange for his help. Don't just think about yourself; try to think about everyone else's needs as well. What's more, it's our duty to tear these riches from imperialist claws.”

“But we can't carry everything that's in this tomb!”

“True, but everything we take, which will be much more than just this, will pay for the excavations needed to get the rest. Shi Huang Ti will bring wealth to his people once again!” he exclaimed. Now there was no doubt in my mind that Lao Jiang had gone crazy. He made me so angry at times, especially that nasty, condescending display of generosity: “Don't just think about yourself; try to think about everyone else's needs as well.” We had to keep risking our lives because there wasn't enough on that altar to pay for the rebirth of China. Well, wasn't China lucky? I thought. After all,
it
had the opportunity for rebirth, but if we died,
we
certainly wouldn't. And so, given that all those riches were insignificant and worthless, I decided they might as well be put to good use.

“Take cover,” I warned, scooping up gold weights in my cupped hands.

“What are you going to do, Auntie?” my niece asked nervously when she saw the look on my face.

“I said take cover,” I repeated. “Arrows are about to fly.”

They all quickly lay flat on the floor, and, squatting in front of the altar, I threw the medallions against the tiles with all my might. As soon as they touched the floor, a cloud of arrows appeared in the air and slammed into the gold pieces, creating an awful din.

“What are you doing?” Lao Jiang yelled. “Are you crazy?”

“Not at all,” I replied, throwing a second handful even farther. “I want to assure our escape. I'm going to empty the crossbows so there'll be a safe path to the exit. Later you can bend down to pick the treasure up off the floor if you like. Give me a hand, children! Throw the jewels from the chests straight out in front of us!”

Even Master Red enthusiastically joined in the fun of using those ancient treasures to empty the crossbows of arrows. We took big fistfuls of precious stones, earrings, charms, strange hair pendants, barrettes, necklaces, hairpins, bracelets, and more, throwing them on the tiles as if we were tossing stones into a lake. The best thing was when the arrows themselves bounced onto other tiles and set off yet more arrows that bounced, making the path to the doors safer and safer. They finally ceased, at about the same time we began to tire. It had been just like watching a beautiful fireworks display, only a little more dangerous, but now we could run to the exit if we wanted without risking our lives.

Lao Jiang had remained hidden behind the altar, safe from the arrows, and never said another word. He hadn't, of course, participated in the fun, and so he wasn't as jubilant or sweaty as we were, roaring with laughter and congratulating one another. Master Red and I bowed as if it were an affectionate handshake (it wasn't proper to touch, of course), and he looked as pleased as punch. Everyone had had a marvelous time. Everyone but Lao Jiang, who stood up with a face as dark as thunder and threw his dangerous bag over his shoulder with contempt.

A short distance behind the altar was a vertical black stone slab that came down from the ceiling and was about six feet long, lending an imposing, solemn air to the place where a throne should have sat. Magnificent sculptors had carved two powerful tigers standing on their back legs, a whirl of clouds in their muzzles and columns of what might have been steam spilling out. Lao Jiang strode decisively behind the slab and disappeared, the rest of us still laughing and indifferent to his wounded pride, after stuffing big handfuls of precious stones into our bundles (Fernanda and I also took two beautiful bronze mirrors). A trapdoor stood open on the floor behind the slab. Ignoring us, the antiquarian was already climbing down to the bottom of a dark pit on an iron ladder secured to the wall. I knotted the strings on my bag and slung it across my shoulders. Master Red went ahead, and the children came last so I could help them if they slipped or if a rung came loose. I couldn't for the life of me figure how Lao Jiang thought he was going to remove the huge treasures he seemed so willing to take in order to build a new, modern country.