Celestial Master said. “What made me look toward the pile was a small sound coming from it, and I knew I’d lost my mind for certain when a terrible claw came crawling out into the moonlight. Then another claw followed it, and earth fell away and something big heaved up into the moonlight, and when the dirt dropped off it I was looking at the prettiest ch’ih-mei to appear in China in a century or more. A classic vampire ghoul, Kao, and it was looking up at that crane in the sky. Then the crane dwindled to a speck and disappeared, and the ch’ih-mei looked down and saw Ma Tuan Lin. In two strides it had reached him, and I swear it ripped the head right off the body! It lifted the gory trophy and took a big bite, but I didn’t see any more. I was crawling backward, sort of pushing with my canes, hoping the creature’s chewing noises would drown out any sound I made, and I made it safely back into the trees. Then I got to my boat and rowed back and gave the alarm, and that’s all I can tell you.”
Master Li nodded appreciatively.
“To whom did you give the alarm?” he asked.
“The emperor has an officer attached to my household staff. A nursemaid, I suppose, but useful at times.”
“And you told him what had happened?”
“I had to,” the Celestial Master said. “He didn’t believe a word of it, of course.”
“Well, I do.” Master Li grinned and winked. “I didn’t say I believe all of it, but I’ll keep an open mind and who knows? I’ve come to accept some incredible things in my time.”
The Celestial Master grinned back, and then winced and tapped his head.
“Tired, Kao, tired. The time I have left is about as limited as my remaining brains, and if you want anything more from me today you’d better get it now,” he said wearily.
Master Li leaned forward.
“What I want,” he said, speaking slowly and clearly, “is a written commission to investigate this matter and anything that may be connected with it, with the full authority of, and signed by, the Celestial Master.”
Not long afterward Master Li led the way out through a series of side doors, and then around through the gardens to the courtyard and our palanquin. He was clearly depressed when he should have been exhilarated, and I looked at him questioningly.
“Well, Ox, we can forget about getting a case like a great white whale,” he said.
“Sir?”
“I owe the mandarins an apology. They were hushing up the matter and hoping to cram the corpse into a tomb before busy-bodies like me came along, for the very sound reason that China’s greatest living saint has confessed to the murder of Ma Tuan Lin,” Master Li said sadly.
3
Master Li was getting weary, and once I had rowed over to Hortensia Island and tied the boat at a dock he had me bend over so he could climb up on my back. He weighs no more than a schoolboy, and his small feet fit easily into my tunic pockets, and I’m so accustomed to carrying the old man around that without him I feel undressed. I took the paths he indicated toward the pavilion where Ma Tuan Lin, according to the Celestial Master, had met his death.
The island has changed beyond belief in the short time since that day. New construction is everywhere, and scarcely an acre of wooded land remains. Then it was almost totally given over to trees and shrubs and grass, and outside of the Yu (much more about which later) there was only the collection of astronomical instruments first established by the great Chang Heng and fewer than twenty secluded pavilions used as retreats by eminent mandarins. It was peaceful and beautiful, and we saw and heard nobody at all as I followed the paths through the trees. Ahead was a grassy clearing and Master Li had me stop and set him down. He reached inside his robe and pulled out his wine flask and swilled moodily, spitting the pulpy residue at flowers. I expected them to shrivel and die beneath the bath of pure alcohol, but for some reason they didn’t.
“Ox, I must congratulate you on your self-control. Not one single question,” he said with a wink. He knows he’s trained me well. “Let’s look around. I’m betting the Celestial Master actually did see our vampire ghoul remove Ma Tuan Lin’s head, thus greatly improving Ma’s appearance, and I’ll be disappointed if proved wrong.”
We’d already learned that the body had indeed been found and removed from here, and as we walked forward I saw the outline of the pavilion and then I saw a huge pile of fresh earth beside it, and finally I saw something black and moving, sharply outlined against a green background. It was a cloud of flies buzzing around sticky black streaks that had recently been red, matting the grass. We walked to the pile of earth and found signs of a very recent disturbance that might have been caused by a creature crawling out, and I found sandal prints in a soft spot in the path close to the pile. The toes had dug in and sprayed dirt backward, which would be consistent with somebody running for his life, and I soon found another soft spot with a huge print on it that might have been made by a creature like a vampire ghoul.
“The Celestial Master would have no reason to invent an item like a birdcage. Let’s find it,” Master Li muttered.
We found the cage in tall grass close to the bloodstains. The sage picked it up and whistled appreciatively as he looked at it, and even I could see the workmanship was superb, and very old. It couldn’t have held a bird, however. The bars were oddly spaced with at least one gap through which a small bird would have escaped, and a peculiar maze of wires ran across them. A single bead was strung on the wires and with a little dexterity it could be made to slide this way and that, but Master Li said one bead couldn’t possibly fulfill enough functions to serve as a primitive abacus. The bars were decorated with a jumble of symbols of every description, from animals to utensils to astronomy, and Master Li shook his head and shrugged.
“I have no idea what it was used for but it’s almost unbelievably ancient,” he said. “Say what one will about Ma Tuan Lin, he had a gift for discovering valuable artifacts. He was a considerable collector and claimed to be an authority, and maybe we’ll find something about this in his papers.”
He tied the cage to his waist with his long yellow sash and stood looking around for a moment with his hands on his hips.
“My dear old friend and teacher rowed over here and took a walk in the moonlight,” he said in a slow melancholy voice. “As fate would have it, he arrived at this spot just in time to see a monster chasing its dinner, meaning Ma Tuan Lin, and he did indeed see the creature rip Ma’s head off. Ox, you’ve heard the Celestial Master. You know he couldn’t stand Ma Tuan Lin. Deep inside he felt guilty for not grieving at a terrible murder, and the guilt worked through a weary mind and projected images, and the result was that he really does believe his story about—pay attention—’a little wrinkled man older than you, maybe even older than me, but he was running as lightly as a child.’ All right, what kind of hat does the Celestial Master wear?”
I thought about it. “It’s a white hat, tall and conical, tapering to a point,” I said.
“It’s called Hat of Nine Yang Thunder,” Master Li said dryly. “It’s meant to resemble the beak of a crane. Did you notice his robe?”
“It was a Taoist robe, except for the First Rank emblem,” I said.
“Which is?”
“A crane.”
“Yes indeed, and did you notice his ring of office?” Master Li asked.
“Some kind of large red stone,” I said.
“It’s a garnet called Ball of Retributive Lightning,” said Master Li.
“Oh-oh,” I said.
“Oh-oh indeed,” said Master Li. “Ox, the Celestial Master projected himself as a tiny wrinkled old man who could throw away his canes and run lightly as a child as he massacred bastards like Ma Tuan Lin, blasting them with his ring of office and then transforming himself into the crane he carried on his robe and hat, flying safely away across the moon, like in dreams. The mandarins feared that the wrong people might take that tale and cause a terrible scandal, but you and I are not going to be the wrong people.”
“No, sir,” I said.
