A servant began to play a harplike instrument in the corner of the room, a slow, soothing melody. Another servant put a little of each dish on a plate and tasted it himself. Matt realized he was testing the food for poison.
After the servant had tasted everything and deemed it safe, he served the food to the emperor, who took a bite, signaling that others could eat as well. Albert fumbled with the chopsticks and spilled a dumpling and sauce all down his front. Yinreng cast him a derisive glance.
Matt was starving. He ate as quickly as he could without seeming impolite. Much of the food was unfamiliar to him. He pointed to a dish that looked like gray crumbly cheese and asked Jia what it was.
“Sheep brains,” Jia said. “It’s a delicacy.”
Matt felt himself go a little green, but nevertheless nodded and dished himself some. He wasn’t about to look like a squeamish child in front of the emperor. He took a bite and chewed for a moment. It tasted like very soft tofu.
“My daughter tells me you have come in need of help,” the emperor said, speaking to Matt.
Matt had to swallow the brains before answering. “Shi,” he said, glancing at his mom. “We’ve come because . . . there have been certain unintended consequences to our travels, some that have caused a fair amount of trouble.”
The emperor nodded. “That seems logical. Time is a delicate tapestry, easily torn and unraveled. I would imagine traveling through it would cause a great deal of trouble.”
Matt thought it interesting that he used the word tapestry to describe time. He thought of the scraps of Corey’s and Ruby’s time tapestries. He had them tucked in the pocket of his robe. He had an itch to touch them in that moment, but he resisted. There were too many eyes, and he felt that those small scraps were somehow sacred and perhaps the only link he had to his brother and sister.
“We are searching for something to fix that tapestry,” Belamie said, clearly unable to stay quiet any longer. “Something called the Aeternum.”
The emperor stopped eating. His eyes darkened and narrowed on Belamie. “Yhongzeng,” he said, speaking the Chinese word for “eternity.”
“Yes!” Belamie said. “You know of it?”
The emperor nodded. “My ancestors called it by another name. Jìnzhĭ Suŏ.”
“Jìnzhĭ Suŏ,” Belamie repeated. “That means . . .”
Matt was sifting through his own vocabulary. He thought suŏ meant “lock,” but he wasn’t sure about jìnzhĭ.
“Forbidden lock,” Jia supplied.
“It is an ancient legend,” the emperor continued, “one that has been mostly forgotten over time. Suŏ is the force that binds the three pillars of our universe—time, space, and matter. It is the power that creates order and rhythm to our world. The earth turns in its orbit because of Suŏ, the sun rises and sets, the seasons come and go, and we are born and age and die, all because of Suŏ. In order to change events of the past or future, you would have to break this lock, disrupt the order of time, space, and matter. But of course, this thing is forbidden.”
“Forbidden,” Belamie said, “but not impossible?”
The emperor studied Belamie. “Tell me, why would anyone wish to break this lock, the very thing that binds our universe together?”
“To make a better world, of course,” Belamie said. “The world is cruel and unfair. If there is a way to make things better, to change them, why shouldn’t we do so?”
The emperor was thoughtful for a moment. “How would you make this a better world? By making things exactly as you wish?”
Belamie hesitated, as though she sensed a trap. “Why shouldn’t I make things as I wish? I would take away chaos of the universe. I wouldn’t allow people to needlessly die or suffer.”
The emperor nodded. “And what of other people’s wishes? Would you make things as they wish?”
“I could. If I deemed their wishes worthy.”
“Worthy according to you,” the emperor added. “And by granting some wishes and rejecting others, you will create division, and therefore discontent, and so no matter what you do you cannot hope for a better world, only a different kind of chaos. The universe is cruel, yes, and often unfair, but it is foolish to suppose you can manage better than anyone else. To rule is a terrible burden. To do it well is more pain than pleasure. And often the more pleasure you take for yourself the more pain you lay upon others, and so let us be truthful. You seek not for a better world but for your own content. A better world is something that is achievable without the help of any mystical powers or magic.”
“By what powers, then?” Belamie asked. “It seems to me power and magic is the only thing that has made things better.”
“But you just admitted that it has made things worse. Otherwise you would not be here. Confucius said, ‘Wisdom, compassion, and courage are the three universally recognized qualities of men.’ Sadly, as far as I have witnessed, these qualities are scarce in mankind. They are only concerned with their own comforts and wishes. This is the cause of the world’s chaos and pain. We are our own worst enemies. To believe that somehow breaking the universe can solve that is delusion.”
Belamie frowned at the emperor, but gave no response. Matt felt a small prick in his soul at the emperor’s words. Was he only concerned with his own wishes and comforts? Did he care anything for the rest of the world so long as he got his family back? Was he any better than Vincent? He wanted to believe he was. He did wish to right the world. It was
