Tiger by Jeff Stone Page B

water bird? I've never hunted one—are they tasty?”
    “I don't know,” Ying said, turning away. “Perhaps we will find out.”
    “What do you intend to do?”
    Ying took a deep breath. “I sense someone has been watching us for quite some time, and I think it is Hok—one of my former brothers.”
    “One of the young monks?” Tonglong said. “Commander Woo and the men seem certain we're being watched by restless spirits.”
    “Commander Woo is a superstitious fool.”
    Tonglong rubbed his strong jaw. “He is what he is, Major Ying. If you want to change his mind—and the minds of the men—you'll need to catch this Hok.”
    “I don't care about changing anyone's mind,” Ying scowled, pivoting around to face Tonglong. “I only want to catch Hok.”
    “I see,” Tonglong said. “May I ask you a question, sir?”
    Ying grunted.
    “Perhaps it is because I'm Cantonese, but I'm curious about something.
Hok
is the Cantonese word for ‘crane'; likewise
Ying
is the Cantonese word for ‘eagle.' Why do you Cangzhen monks have Cantonesenames? Your temple was not in Canton. Everyone in this region speaks Mandarin Chinese—including you.”
    Ying frowned. “Grandmaster was from Canton. He wanted to keep the temple secret, so he gave us all Cantonese names and taught us to speak Cantonese as a second language. If we were ever away from the temple, we were supposed to speak Cantonese and pretend that we were just passing through the area.”
    Tonglong's eyebrows raised. “You were supposed to lie?”
    “Yes,” Ying replied.
    “But
Cangzhen
means ‘hidden truth,' does it not?”
    “Yes.”
    Tonglong looked off to one side. “It seems odd that your temple is called
truth,
but you were asked to lie.”
    “I know,” Ying said, watching Tonglong closely.
    “What was the big secret?”
    “Grandmaster never told us,” replied Ying, his eyes still glued to Tonglong. “But I have my suspicions. Why are you so curious?”
    “I'm just making conversation,” Tonglong said, glancing over at Ying. “Also, I find it interesting. I am sorry if I have offended you.”
    “I appreciate your curiosity,” Ying said. “But I have trouble trusting people.”
    “If you do not trust people, you make them untrustworthy,” Tonglong said.
    “I know that!” Ying snapped. “It's an old Buddhist proverb. But proverbs mean nothing to me. They arejust words. Actions have far more meaning than words.”
    Tonglong folded his hands. “But words can change a person's heart.”
    “So can actions!” Ying raised a fist. “But I doubt you would understand my position.”
    “I might,” Tonglong said calmly. “I have been through quite a bit myself.”
    “Really?” Ying said, leaning forward. “My entire family is dead.”
    “Mine, too,” Tonglong replied.
    “Oh? What about friends? Did you ever have a best friend?”
    “Yes, once,” Tonglong said.
    “Did he die?” Ying spat.
“Right in front of you?”
    “Actually, yes,” Tonglong said.
    “I don't believe it,” said Ying, looking away.
    “Believe it or don't, that is your choice. I will tell you about it, if you would like to listen.”
    “I don't care about your experiences!” Ying said. “And I no longer feel like talking!”
    Tonglong responded respectfully, “Sir, I did not come over here expecting a conversation. I came over only to say hello. But since we're talking, I would greatly appreciate it if you would answer one or two more questions. For the men—I will pass the information along.”
    Ying nodded once.
    Tonglong tapped his chin. “I know that the large young monk called Fu escaped with his life, and nowyou've mentioned one called Hok. That is two. What are the names of the three?”
    “Malao, Seh, and Long.”
    “Monkey, Snake, Dragon?” Tonglong said. “Are all Cangzhen monks named after animals?”
    “No,” Ying said. “Just those five are, plus myself. There was a seventh, but he is no more.”
    Tonglong's head tilted to one side.