to give me the third degree?”
“It isn’t the third degree. It’s just that there’s no such thing as blue-eyed Chinese people,” Elettra continues. “You do realize that, don’t you?”
“How would you guys know?” he grumbles. “Actually, there’s no such thing as what you call ‘Chinese people,’ either.”
“There aren’t?” Ermete asks. “Then who are the Chinese?”
“It just so happens that we ‘Chinese’ don’t have a word for
Chinese
. We use the word
Han
, but that just means a certain number of ethnic groups who at some point in history were ruled by the Han dynasty.”
“So how do you say someone’s Chinese or not Chinese?”
“We don’t. What point is there in saying someone’s Italian, or French?”
“It’s really important to us Europeans.”
“To us it isn’t. And if you really want to know, we don’t even have a word for
China
.”
Ermete laughs. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all.
China
is a word
you
came up with to talk about the place
we
live. It isn’t Chinese. It isn’t Wu.”
“What’s Wu?”
“Shanghai’s dialect, which is different from Beijing’s dialect. And Hong Kong’s, and—”
“Wait, wait …,” Mistral cuts him off. “If there isn’t a Chinese word to say
China
, then how do you say
China
?”
“It depends on what we mean, exactly. We can use
Zhongguo
, the ‘middle country,’ and
Zhongguo Ren
, its inhabitants. But it doesn’t mean
China
.”
“It’s like the street names!” Ermete grumbles. “Two hundred ways to say the same thing. Nothing’s simple here. It’s all mutable, fluid.”
“Well, after all, we’re in the city of water,” Elettra reminds the others. “Which is also the world’s biggest river port. In any case”—Elettra peers around—“do you think we should talk here?”
“I doubt they bugged the place just for us,” Ermete says.
“Besides, nobody could even know we’re here,” Sheng says.
Elettra hesitates. “I need to tell you something,” she says.
“So do I,” Mistral adds.
The two girls give the others a recap of their discoveries. The only thing Elettra leaves out is the other Chinese boy, Hi-Nau. When she’s finished, Sheng looks at her and exclaims, “Your aunt is one of the four Sages!”
Ermete is sprawled out in his armchair. “After all the trouble we went through, we could’ve just asked her!”
“But she wouldn’t have told us anything. Not being able to talk to us is a part of the Pact.”
“Okay,” Sheng says, turning to Mistral, “but Professor Van Der Berger didn’t seem to care. He ended up telling us what happened.”
“But only because he’s dead,” the Roman engineer reminds everyone. “I don’t know if the Pact still counts after you die.”
“In any case,” Mistral says, “the Pact was broken. In a place called Century.”
“Could it have happened in that apartment in the Century Building in New York?” Ermete murmurs.
“That’s not important,” Elettra says. “There are two important things right now: Sheng and this box.” She puts the cookie tin from her aunt in the middle of the table. “Inside of it are the clues they had back in 1907. But they didn’t know what to do with them.”
“Like in Paris, with the clock?”
“Exactly,” Elettra replies. Clutched between her knees is her backpack with the map of the Chaldeans and the only top they have left, the heart top. “But before we open the box, I think we should talk about Sheng’s dream some more.”
He grumbles. “Again?”
“I think it’s fundamental. In her files, my aunt talked about powers. I have the power of Fire, of energy.”
“And you can make lights explode,” Mistral whispers, remembering what happened in the library in New York.
“You have the power of Air,” Elettra says to Mistral. “Andbecause of your power, when you sing you can make creatures of the air listen to you.”
“Like that Indian guy in New York!” Sheng says.
“It isn’t the third degree. It’s just that there’s no such thing as blue-eyed Chinese people,” Elettra continues. “You do realize that, don’t you?”
“How would you guys know?” he grumbles. “Actually, there’s no such thing as what you call ‘Chinese people,’ either.”
“There aren’t?” Ermete asks. “Then who are the Chinese?”
“It just so happens that we ‘Chinese’ don’t have a word for
Chinese
. We use the word
Han
, but that just means a certain number of ethnic groups who at some point in history were ruled by the Han dynasty.”
“So how do you say someone’s Chinese or not Chinese?”
“We don’t. What point is there in saying someone’s Italian, or French?”
“It’s really important to us Europeans.”
“To us it isn’t. And if you really want to know, we don’t even have a word for
China
.”
Ermete laughs. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all.
China
is a word
you
came up with to talk about the place
we
live. It isn’t Chinese. It isn’t Wu.”
“What’s Wu?”
“Shanghai’s dialect, which is different from Beijing’s dialect. And Hong Kong’s, and—”
“Wait, wait …,” Mistral cuts him off. “If there isn’t a Chinese word to say
China
, then how do you say
China
?”
“It depends on what we mean, exactly. We can use
Zhongguo
, the ‘middle country,’ and
Zhongguo Ren
, its inhabitants. But it doesn’t mean
China
.”
“It’s like the street names!” Ermete grumbles. “Two hundred ways to say the same thing. Nothing’s simple here. It’s all mutable, fluid.”
“Well, after all, we’re in the city of water,” Elettra reminds the others. “Which is also the world’s biggest river port. In any case”—Elettra peers around—“do you think we should talk here?”
“I doubt they bugged the place just for us,” Ermete says.
“Besides, nobody could even know we’re here,” Sheng says.
Elettra hesitates. “I need to tell you something,” she says.
“So do I,” Mistral adds.
The two girls give the others a recap of their discoveries. The only thing Elettra leaves out is the other Chinese boy, Hi-Nau. When she’s finished, Sheng looks at her and exclaims, “Your aunt is one of the four Sages!”
Ermete is sprawled out in his armchair. “After all the trouble we went through, we could’ve just asked her!”
“But she wouldn’t have told us anything. Not being able to talk to us is a part of the Pact.”
“Okay,” Sheng says, turning to Mistral, “but Professor Van Der Berger didn’t seem to care. He ended up telling us what happened.”
“But only because he’s dead,” the Roman engineer reminds everyone. “I don’t know if the Pact still counts after you die.”
“In any case,” Mistral says, “the Pact was broken. In a place called Century.”
“Could it have happened in that apartment in the Century Building in New York?” Ermete murmurs.
“That’s not important,” Elettra says. “There are two important things right now: Sheng and this box.” She puts the cookie tin from her aunt in the middle of the table. “Inside of it are the clues they had back in 1907. But they didn’t know what to do with them.”
“Like in Paris, with the clock?”
“Exactly,” Elettra replies. Clutched between her knees is her backpack with the map of the Chaldeans and the only top they have left, the heart top. “But before we open the box, I think we should talk about Sheng’s dream some more.”
He grumbles. “Again?”
“I think it’s fundamental. In her files, my aunt talked about powers. I have the power of Fire, of energy.”
“And you can make lights explode,” Mistral whispers, remembering what happened in the library in New York.
“You have the power of Air,” Elettra says to Mistral. “Andbecause of your power, when you sing you can make creatures of the air listen to you.”
“Like that Indian guy in New York!” Sheng says.
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