pockets. As a result the rich do not have to hire large private armies of guards, and in Ch'in and in Ch'in alone a wealthy man can lead a carefree existence. So long as a man spends freely, he has nothing to fear from the rulers of the Castle of the Labyrinth, and it is only a slight exaggeration to say that you and I are about to enter Paradise on Earth.”
I will describe the city later on, but our first task was to find out who might be able to get us into the labyrinth and out again, and we discovered him inside an hour after we docked.
Every place of business was equipped with an iron chest with the duke's tiger emblem stamped upon it. Half of the coins from every transaction went into the chest and half into the proprietor's cash box, and somebody had to collect the duke's share. The position of Assessor of Ch'in had to rank very high among the most miserable occupations on earth, and the fellow who was stuck with it was universally known as the Key Rabbit—inescapably so, because he was a cringing little man with pink-rimmed eyes and a long pink nose that twitched in permanent terror, and as he pattered through the streets he was festooned with jangling chains of keys.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” the poor fellow whimpered as he trotted into wineshops and brothels and gambling dens. “O dear, oh dear, oh dear!” he wailed as he trotted back out again.
He was followed by a platoon of soldiers and two carts, one to hold the loot and the other to hold the massive scrolls that listed every rule and regulation in the duke's domain. Magistrates could impose sentences, but only the Assessor could impose fines, and it was generally agreed that if the Key Rabbit missed a point of law that cost the duke one penny he would shortly be missing his head.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” he whined as he trotted into the Lucky Gambler Cricket Fighting Arena. He searched through his thousands of keys for the right one, unlocked the chest, counted the coins, checked the records to see if the amount was suspiciously low, conferred with spies to confirm that no cheating had taken place, relocked the chest, and pattered down the street to the next place of business. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” he whimpered, which was a reasonable comment because if the duke's share was off by a penny, his head would also be off.
As the sun set over the Castle of the Labyrinth the Key Rabbit pattered up the path to the duke's treasure chambers, where clerks counted the coins, and then as often as not he would be forced to spend the night recounting the loot to make sure that the clerks hadn't pocketed a penny. Who had to accompany the Duke of Ch'in on the annual tax trip and determine how much was owed by each village? The Key Rabbit, of course, and it was common knowledge that if he failed to squeeze the final grain of rice from the peasants he would fail to keep his head.
That should have been enough grief for anyone, but not for the Key Rabbit. In a moment of raving insanity, he had married.
“Don't misunderstand me,” said the old lady who was filling our ears with the gossip of the town. “Lotus Cloud is a dear, sweet country girl with the kindest heart in the world, but she was not prepared for the seductions of city life, and she has fallen victim to insatiable greed. Her husband, who has not one penny to call his own, cannot even relax when his wife takes a wealthy lover, because she is sure to bankrupt the fellow in a week. The Key Rabbit has decided that he committed some horrible crime in a previous incarnation, and he is being punished by marriage to the most expensive woman in the whole world.”
For once my ignorant mind was keeping pace with that of Li Kao.
“The key to the labyrinth is the Key Rabbit, and the key to the Key Rabbit is his wife,” said Master Li as we strolled away. “I'd do it myself if I were ninety, but it appears that Lotus Cloud will be your department. You may console yourself with the thought that the most expensive woman in the world is likely to be the most beautiful.”
“Master Li, I shall do my duty,” I said bravely.
“Yes indeed,” he sighed. “Ox, you aren't going to make much of an impression upon a walking case of insatiable greed with what's left of Miser Shen's gold coins. We must get our hands on a fortune.”
13. The Art of Porcupine Cookery
Li Kao led the way to the customs shed, and an hour later he found what he wanted. Everything that was shipped in or out of the port of Ch'in was heavily taxed, and an enormously fat merchant was paying an export tax that amounted to an emperor's ransom. A small army of guards—a rare sight in Ch'in—was positioned around four rectangular wooden cases, and since it would be several hours before his ship sailed, the merchant waddled away to enjoy a light lunch.
“Ox, follow that fellow and come back and tell me what he eats,” said Master Li.
“What he eats?”
“What he eats.”
When I returned I was rather shaken. “Master Li, you won't believe this, but that merchant began with four large tureens of pimento and dumpling soup,” I said. “Then he devoured three bowls of mussel stew, a pound of pickled mallows, two pounds of steamed snails, three servings of soft-shelled crabs, two plates of sweetmeats, ten honey cakes, and a watermelon. The proprietor wondered whether the esteemed guest might care for six or seven quarts of peaches in heavy syrup, but the merchant explained that he was on a diet and would be forced to settle for a gallon of green tea flavored with pine kernels.”
“Where is he now?”
“He's having a steam bath and a massage, while two waiters from the restaurant stand ready with a stomach pump.”
“Splendid,” Master Li said happily. “Come along, Ox. We have to find the most unscrupulous alchemist in town and procure a jar of the Elixir of Eighty Evil Essences, and then we have to buy a coffin.”
When the merchant waddled back from the massage parlor a truly pathetic sight met his eyes. I was draped over a coffin, sobbing my heart out, while Li Kao wailed and tore his hair.
“Woe!” I howled.
“The bride of my beloved great-grandson is dead!” howled Master Li.
“Speak to me, my beloved!” I screamed, pounding the coffin lid.
“Ten million maledictions upon the chef who persuaded me to serve porcupine at my great-grandson's wedding feast!” shrieked Master Li.
The merchant was at his side in an instant.
“Porcupine? Did you say porcupine?”
“Porcupine,” Master Li sobbed.
“But, Venerable Sir, were you not aware that porcupine can be fatal unless properly prepared?”
Li Kao drew himself up affronted. “Do you take me for a fool?” he snapped. “I myself supervised the preparations, and every step was taken according to the instructions of Li Tsening.”
“Surely not!” the merchant gasped. “Why, the great Li Tsening wrote The Book of Porcupine Cookery!”
“Why do you think I followed his instructions, you idiot?” Master Li shouted.
The merchant's eyes were glazed, and saliva flowed in streams. “Was it young, fresh porcupine?” he whispered.
“Barely one year old, and trapped the day before,” Master Li sniffled.
A mighty spasm shook the merchant's vast belly. “From Yushan?” he whispered.
“Straight from the river,” sobbed Master Li.
That was too much for the merchant. He tottered over to his guards, opened a large sack, extracted a pickled carp, devoured it noisily, and tottered back.
“The paste!” he gasped. “The paste was made one year before?”
“One year precisely,” said Master Li. “Only the purest yellow beans were used.”
“You are positive that all black and brown beans were removed? The slightest trace of such imperfection can be fatal!”
“All black and brown beans as well as those with purple markings were removed by hand,” Master Li said huffily. “The remainder was sifted fifteen times, and carefully scrutinized. I was perfectly aware of the danger!”
