interest.
“They didn't take the gold and jewels, and not even Tou Wan's burial suit,” he said wonderingly.
“So what did they take?” Master Li asked.
We remained silent, so he answered his own question.
“They took a stone,” said Master Li. “All the inscriptions indicate that the Laughing Prince worshipped a stone. When he died he would certainly have arranged for it to be buried with him, so it was taken from the sacristy and — perhaps — placed in his hands, and then the jade suit was fashioned around him. Jade is among the hardest of materials. The stone might be damaged if somebody tried to crack the jade, so whoever it was who beat us to it simply carried the whole damn mummy away. What kind of people would pass up gold and jewels to get their hands on a sacred stone?”
“A religious order of some sort?” the prince guessed.
Master Li shrugged. “That's all I can think of at the moment,” he said. “Remember that the Laughing Prince created a quasi-religious order he called the Monks of Mirth, and notice that the Monks of Mirth, alone among his court, did not die along with the prince — at least we haven't seen their skeletons. Suppose he arranged for the order to be perpetuated through the centuries?”
I finally found my tongue. “Why?” I asked.
Master Li threw his hands wide apart in exasperation. “How would I know?” he said. “We can assume that he worshipped a stone, although we don't know why. The use of laughter and dancing in place of prayer is not unknown to ancient pre-shamanistic religions, and I can't help but wonder about the constant repetition of the number five in his peculiar formulas. Five is a sacred number to many weird cults, ancient and modern alike. The primitive Yu-Ch'ao, for example, who are said to live in five-sided tree houses and sacrifice to five-headed demons in five-celled temples.”
Master Li pulled out his wine flask and offered us some, but we declined. He swilled a pint or two and wiped his lips with his beard.
“Prince, for the moment I'm stymied,” he said frankly. “The idea that we may not be dealing with normal criminals throws everything out of balance. All I know for certain is that we have to get to the bottom of the strange compelling sound and the destruction of Princes' Path, and that means Ox and I will have to go to Ch'ang-an with soil and plant samples for analysis, and then get our hands on the greatest sound-master in the empire. In the meantime, you have a problem.”
He waved his wine flask back toward the treasure chambers.
“Technically this stuff is yours. Do you want it?”
The prince shuddered. “Nightmares would finish me in a month if I took a single coin,” he said.
“Nonetheless, if word of the discovery gets out, you'll be visited by every criminal, warlord, and greedy state minister in the empire,” Master Li pointed out.
“Suppose I make a gift of it to the throne?” the prince asked hopefully.
“People tend to impute their own flaws to others,” Master Li said. “The avaricious will never believe that you didn't keep the choicest gems for yourself, and the missing jade suit of your ancestor will be considered absolute proof. Are you particularly fond of torture?”
The prince turned as white as one of the skeletons. “But what can I do with this tomb?” he whispered.
Master Li turned to me. “Ox, can you manage it?” he asked.
I drew myself up proudly. “Venerable Sir, you are talking to a former apprentice of Big Hong the blacksmith,” I said.
He turned back to the prince. “What tomb?” he said.
“What tomb?” I said.
The prince began to regain some color. “What tomb?” he said.
It really wasn't very difficult. The stones and bricks were easily replaced, and there were countless pieces of old iron lying around the estate. I was very proud of my makeshift furnace and bellows, and when I had finished, I doubted that anyone would notice the patch in the iron wall unless he was
“They didn't take the gold and jewels, and not even Tou Wan's burial suit,” he said wonderingly.
“So what did they take?” Master Li asked.
We remained silent, so he answered his own question.
“They took a stone,” said Master Li. “All the inscriptions indicate that the Laughing Prince worshipped a stone. When he died he would certainly have arranged for it to be buried with him, so it was taken from the sacristy and — perhaps — placed in his hands, and then the jade suit was fashioned around him. Jade is among the hardest of materials. The stone might be damaged if somebody tried to crack the jade, so whoever it was who beat us to it simply carried the whole damn mummy away. What kind of people would pass up gold and jewels to get their hands on a sacred stone?”
“A religious order of some sort?” the prince guessed.
Master Li shrugged. “That's all I can think of at the moment,” he said. “Remember that the Laughing Prince created a quasi-religious order he called the Monks of Mirth, and notice that the Monks of Mirth, alone among his court, did not die along with the prince — at least we haven't seen their skeletons. Suppose he arranged for the order to be perpetuated through the centuries?”
I finally found my tongue. “Why?” I asked.
Master Li threw his hands wide apart in exasperation. “How would I know?” he said. “We can assume that he worshipped a stone, although we don't know why. The use of laughter and dancing in place of prayer is not unknown to ancient pre-shamanistic religions, and I can't help but wonder about the constant repetition of the number five in his peculiar formulas. Five is a sacred number to many weird cults, ancient and modern alike. The primitive Yu-Ch'ao, for example, who are said to live in five-sided tree houses and sacrifice to five-headed demons in five-celled temples.”
Master Li pulled out his wine flask and offered us some, but we declined. He swilled a pint or two and wiped his lips with his beard.
“Prince, for the moment I'm stymied,” he said frankly. “The idea that we may not be dealing with normal criminals throws everything out of balance. All I know for certain is that we have to get to the bottom of the strange compelling sound and the destruction of Princes' Path, and that means Ox and I will have to go to Ch'ang-an with soil and plant samples for analysis, and then get our hands on the greatest sound-master in the empire. In the meantime, you have a problem.”
He waved his wine flask back toward the treasure chambers.
“Technically this stuff is yours. Do you want it?”
The prince shuddered. “Nightmares would finish me in a month if I took a single coin,” he said.
“Nonetheless, if word of the discovery gets out, you'll be visited by every criminal, warlord, and greedy state minister in the empire,” Master Li pointed out.
“Suppose I make a gift of it to the throne?” the prince asked hopefully.
“People tend to impute their own flaws to others,” Master Li said. “The avaricious will never believe that you didn't keep the choicest gems for yourself, and the missing jade suit of your ancestor will be considered absolute proof. Are you particularly fond of torture?”
The prince turned as white as one of the skeletons. “But what can I do with this tomb?” he whispered.
Master Li turned to me. “Ox, can you manage it?” he asked.
I drew myself up proudly. “Venerable Sir, you are talking to a former apprentice of Big Hong the blacksmith,” I said.
He turned back to the prince. “What tomb?” he said.
“What tomb?” I said.
The prince began to regain some color. “What tomb?” he said.
It really wasn't very difficult. The stones and bricks were easily replaced, and there were countless pieces of old iron lying around the estate. I was very proud of my makeshift furnace and bellows, and when I had finished, I doubted that anyone would notice the patch in the iron wall unless he was
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