Starry River of the Sky (13 page)

“The mark of power! He was WangYi!” Peiyi whispered. “He saved the village by shooting down the suns… That’s why he was so powerful…”

“It was a very interesting story,” Duke Zhe said over Peiyi’s murmurs. “But I don’t see why you thought it was something my magistrate friend should hear.”

“I thought that was obvious,” Madame Chang said. “If kindness and compassion can turn a tiger into a man, then the opposite must be true.”

“In the blood,” Mr. Shan said, and Rendi was surprised to see that Mr. Shan was nodding at him. “The blood that pumps in you can be of man or tiger. The heart decides.”

“I guess this son of the magistrate should watch out, then,” one of the traders called out boisterously. “His dad could turn into a tiger!”

The room filled with titters and laughter, but Rendi felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He caught the trader looking at him slyly and was glad to escape to the horses.

Since the duke’s horses took up all the room in the stable, Rendi was forced to leave the traders’ animals tethered to a picket outside. The traders also had horses, which was unusual, as most merchants had donkeys with carts or heavy-laden camels. But Rendi did not have much time to think about it. Collecting enough water for all the horses and the new guests kept Rendi so busy that he didn’t even have time to get his own dinner. But he didn’t mind. He wasn’t hungry. And he preferred not to return to the dining room.

Still, the tightness inside him did not loosen much. Duke Zhe’s appearance had been a shock. Now, instead of wishing to stow away in one of the carriages, Rendi hoped the duke would just leave quickly, without him. He closed his eyes and sighed, and he left the stable, feeling confused.

He was not the only one confused. As he shut the stable door behind him, Rendi saw an outline of a shuffling figure against the setting sun, the croaking sound of a toad making accompanying music. Mr. Shan was beginning to walk across the bare stone plain.

“Mr. Shan!” Rendi said, running to him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to remember,” Mr. Shan said. He pressed his fingers against his bearded chin. “Without the moon, I’ve forgotten everything. I even forgot that I forgot.”

“Mr. Shan?” Rendi said, concerned. What was he saying? Was he crazy?

“I had forgotten I had lost it until she reminded me,” Mr. Shan said, staring into the distance with eyes that did not see Rendi. “I have to find it.”

Rendi followed Mr. Shan’s gaze into the miles of the
stone field, an empty stretch of shadows. The toad, its eyes bulging above Mr. Shan’s pocket, stared. The sky made a mournful noise, the first lonely echo of the night.

“You shouldn’t go out there now,” Rendi said, taking Mr. Shan’s arm. “Let me take you home.”

“Home,” Mr. Shan said absently. “I have not had a home for a long time.”

Yet he allowed Rendi to turn him around and lead him back to the winding street. Mr. Shan offered no more strange words, and except for the toad’s occasional song and the hollow thumping of Mr. Shan’s walking stick, all was quiet. But Rendi was filled with questions. He couldn’t believe that Mr. Shan—who knew the answer to the problem of the snails, whom Madame Chang held in high regard—was crazy. But his words didn’t make any sense either. Wasn’t the house Mr. Shan lived in his home? Was it Madame Chang who reminded him what he had forgotten? What was it he was looking for? And what did it have to do with the moon?

Mr. Shan’s small house near the Inn of Clear Sky seemed no different from any of the other villagers’, which was perhaps why Rendi had only glanced at it before. The
rows of scalloped tiles that made up the roof looked more like tree ear mushrooms than stone. Grass and weeds, yellowed from lack of water, grew between the rough-hewed rocks of the walls. The shadows that fell from the dimming light seemed to make the house disappear into the sky, but there was nothing unusual about it.

“Mr. Shan,” Rendi finally said, as they reached the front of the house, “what did you mean about the moon?”

“The moon?” Mr. Shan said in his vague way. “The moon means peace. It is the image of harmony and peace.”

Rendi tried again. “You said without the moon, you forgot everything. And you said that you didn’t have a home.”

“Yes,” Mr. Shan said. “You cannot have a home without peace.”

The night groaned, and Rendi gave up. Mr. Shan lit a small lantern outside his door. As Mr. Shan stepped over the raised doorway, he looked at Rendi, the flame in his lantern looking like a small, blooming flower.

“You want to go home, Rendi,” Mr. Shan said. “You should go.”

Rendi turned and walked back to the inn, full of more
questions and confused thoughts. When Mr. Shan had bidden him off, Rendi had looked beyond him into his house, visible by the lit lantern. The house had been completely empty. There was not a table or stool or bed. The only thing Rendi had seen in that bare room was a blue cloth bag that lay forlorn in the corner. Perhaps that was where Mr. Shan kept his money?
He eats every day at the inn
, Rendi thought,
and he always pays
.
Is that all he has?

Rendi sighed as he reached the front of the inn. Thinking of Mr. Shan had taken his mind off the new guests. The bright windows and the lit lanterns of the inn looked like a necklace of jewels, and Rendi felt the tightness in his throat returning. He looked behind him at the last sliver of light on the horizon, and the sky gave a painful wail that echoed in his ears.

Then a rough arm grabbed him! Rendi jolted backward, and his feet were thrown in the air. Before he could think to yell, a large hand clamped over his mouth.

A voice snarled in his ear, “Got you!”

“I tell you, Fang, he’s the missing boy!” the man said.

“He doesn’t look like any rich man’s son,” the other man, obviously Fang, said, scowling.

Rendi stared at them. In the dim light, they seemed more like figures in a nightmare. Nothing seemed real. But he was truly there, inside one of the rooms of the inn with his hands and feet tied. After the trader had dropped him on the floor like a sack of rice, Rendi had propped himself against the wall, drooling into the
coarse cloth knotted over his mouth. The gag was unnecessary, for Rendi was so shocked, he could not make a sound.

“Besides, Liu, he isn’t part of the plan,” Fang said. He was older than the other, the bristles of his unshaven face were gray like the ashes of burned offerings, and his words fell with the weight of weariness. But even more than his words, the cold, ruthless look in his eyes belied his being a trader. “We want the duke’s strings of gold, not some stray kid.”

“This kid’s worth more than the duke’s traveling cash,” Liu said. “Think how much we’ll get ransoming him to that magistrate.”

Fang scanned Rendi as if he were a calf for sale. With an unsympathetic tug, he jerked Rendi forward.

“Look at his hands,” Fang said, shining the lantern over Rendi’s hands, calloused and scarred from his frequent work at the well. “Those aren’t the hands of a rich boy.”

“I tell you, it’s him! I saw his face when the duke was talking,” Liu insisted. “And if he’s not, he knows something about it!”

Liu pushed Rendi back against the wall, thrust a lantern in front of his face, and sneered, “Right, boy?”

Rendi stared back as the two men peered into his face, strangely grateful that he couldn’t answer with the gag in his mouth. But even without speaking, he couldn’t hide his look of guilt and fear.

“Fine,” Fang said grudgingly. “We’ll get the duke’s money tonight as planned and take the boy with us. If he isn’t the magistrate’s son, we’ll get what he knows and get rid of him.”

Rendi shivered and tried not to think about how they would “get rid of him” if they chose to. Liu nodded, and Fang looked out the window into the night. Moments passed, and Rendi could barely hear the moans of the night over the thumping of his blood in his ears.

“Village of Clear Sky! Bah!” Fang said, spitting on the ground. “This place should be called the Village of Black Sky! There’s nothing out there but black. Even the stars aren’t out tonight.”

“Did you see that thing they call the Stone Pancake?” Liu said, joining Fang at the window. “Nothing but flat, dead rock for miles.”

“I don’t like this place. There’s something about it. That lady talking about tigers changing into men has me spooked,” Fang said. He spat on the ground again. “I have a feeling this inn is cursed.”

The sky made another cry, and Rendi wondered if it was the wailing that was affecting Fang and Liu. But the men gazed into the blank blackness, obviously not hearing a sound. As the night groaned, Rendi tried to work the bonds around his wrists. But the rope was as tight as the clamped claws of a crab.

“We’re out tonight, anyway,” Fang said. “You took care of the guards?”

“I put enough stuff in their wine that any of the duke’s men will be lucky if they wake up by tomorrow afternoon,” Liu said. “You didn’t drink any, did you?”

“What am I, a fool?” Fang said.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“Quick!” said Fang, cocking his head. “Hide the kid!”

Rendi was thrust in the corner of the room behind the door. Liu piled their coats on top of him. “One sound out of you,” he hissed, “and you’ll be sorry, rich boy.”

Rendi gulped. As the door opened, he could see only the worn and dirty embroidered goldfish of Peiyi’s slippers.

“My father wanted to know if you needed more oil for your lanterns,” Peiyi said. “He can bring it up with your night wine and snack.”

“We didn’t order any night wine,” Fang said.

“It’s complimentary,” Peiyi said, as if she was reciting, “to thank our guests for visiting the Inn of Clear Sky. We hope you come again.”

“Oh,” Liu said, clearly amused. “All right, then. But make sure it’s a fresh jar of wine. We don’t want that same stuff that was served at dinner, do we, Fang?”

Fang didn’t answer. He seemed much more interested in something else. He stepped forward.

“What’s that on your forehead?” Fang asked Peiyi. “Why do you have the
wang
symbol written there?”

“It’s protection,” Peiyi said.

“I know,” Fang said, “but it’s not the Day of Five Poisons. Why do you need protection now?”