• Mafoo Comforts His Toes •
• Voyaging Moon Plays The Flute •
"MY WARRANT'S GONE!" Only now did Prince Jen realize that more than the sword had been taken. Stripping him of his robe, the bandits had also made off with his royal identification and authority.
"Never mind that. You can't ride a scrap of paper." Mafoo shook his fist at the Yellow Scarves, who had already galloped out of sight. "Sons of turtles! They stole our horses!"
In the course of what had at first promised to be a pleasantly interesting journey, Prince Jen, so far, had been half drowned, mired in mud, and imposed on by a disgusting old crackpot; and now robbed, terrorized, and forced to gulp down shame enough to last a lifetime. Even a gentle-natured prince has a limited store of tolerance, and Prince Jen, blood in his eye and ferocious thoughts in his head, was set on personally throttling Natha and all his band as well. He jumped to his feet and started for the mouth of the cavern.
"Jen!"
He was partway down the path when this call from Voyaging Moon brought him up short. Somehow it pleased him that she had overlooked the royal title.
"Young Lord Prince." Voyaging Moon corrected herself. "No. Only call me 'prince' when I get back my warrant. And the saddle. And the sword."
"If you like," Voyaging Moon said. "It does save time. Now that you've calmed down a little and started thinking sensibly, you've already figured it out. Find Li Kwang and you'll have that saddle you say is so important. Then, with him and his troops, you'll have a better chance of following the Yellow Scarves and getting the sword from Natha."
"I want more than that from him," Jen muttered between his teeth. He went back and bundled up the remaining gifts. He hurried from the cavern and, with Voyaging Moon, set about finding the warriors' tracks.
"Ai-yah! Ai-yah!" Trying to keep up with his master and the flute girl, Mafoo hopped as if he were crossing a bed of hot coals. "My feet aren't used to this torture. I wish those devils had taken my trousers instead of my boots."
Jen, for his part, paid no heed to the stones that bruised and bloodied his own unshod feet. While Voyaging Moon searched in one direction, he pressed farther ahead in another, with no success. Though it was now full daylight, the girl's quick eyes caught no trace of the vanished escort.
"Mafoo thought they doubled back," Jen called. "Could they have gone all the way down again?"
No longer content to let the flute girl take the lead, Jen ordered Voaging Moon to quarter one side of the path and Mafoo the other, then set off practically racing downhill.
"He's acting more like a prince without that warrant than he did when he had it," Mafoo groaned, trying to rub his feet and walk at the same time. "Life was less strenuous before he decided to take charge of things."
Late in the day, when the travelers came back to the roadside, they found no sign that Li Kwang and his men had ever returned. Mafoo hunkered down in the bushes and comforted his toes. Jen and Voyaging Moon gave one last, fruitless search. The girl's spirits had not flagged until now, when she wearily admitted she could do no more.
"Not a footprint. Not a hoofprint," she said. "We've lost them for good."
"Then what?" Jen's vision of courageously regaining the sword was rapidly fading. Li Kwang might as well have disappeared from the face of the earth. What grew clear, instead, was that he had little chance of recovering the saddle or the sword. "We can't stand here in the middle of the road."
"Yes, we can," Mafoo said, "until my blisters heal."
"Is there a village nearby? A farmhouse?" Jen asked Voyaging Moon. "Anyplace at all we can shelter?"
"I'm out of my district," the girl said. "I don't know this part of the province."
"We'll keep on until we find something."
"And when you do?" Voyaging Moon said. "You'll make a grand procession with your band of retainers, all two of them. And the royal prince himself-I'm sure you'll forgive me for pointing this out-looking like the king of scarecrows. You can explain everything, of course; and why you haven't a scrap of evidence to prove it. Also, it's going to be dark. Do you mean to go hacking through the countryside all night?"
"I admire your line of reasoning," Mafoo said, beaming. "The most practical thing at the moment is the simplest: sit down."
Jen bristled. The girl nettled him, as did Mafoo for agreeing with her. Nevertheless, he had no ready answer. He reluctantly followed Mafoo a little way off the road. Like a dog making its bed, Mafoo flattened a space in the undergrowth and curled up in one corner. Resigned to spending the night, Jen dropped the bundle of gifts, much lighter than before, and sat cross-legged beside it.
"Mafoo warned me," Jen said, as Voyaging Moon settled next to him. "He didn't want to go to T'ienkuo, and he didn't want me to do it either. I should have listened to him. What do I know of learning to govern? Or taking charge of Yuan-ming's gifts? I've already lost two of them. Someone else should have gone in my place. Who, I don't know. I think anyone would have done better."
"You can still make your way back to Ch'angan," Voyaging Moon said.
"Yes. In disgrace," Jen said. "Shall I tell my father I failed before I barely started? He trusted me to do what he wasn't able to do. Shall I tell him how frightened I was? A sorry sort of courage for a prince."
"A prince isn't required to be a fool," Voyaging Moon said. "Anyone would have done the same. Show courage by letting some hulking ruffian snap your neck? Brave? I'd call it plainly stupid. Anyhow, what you do next has to be up to you."
"Suppose I went to Kwan-tzu?" Jen said, after a time. "Cha-wei knows he's obliged to give me provisions, horses, everything we need. Don't worry about him," he added. "I'll tell him you're under my protection. Like it or not, he won't dare do anything."
"He's tricky," Voyaging Moon said. "I don't like the idea of being anywhere near him."
"What else then? We need food, water, clothing. Now we have nothing." Jen glanced at the small bundle. "Only these, and they're no help to us. Valuable gifts? Natha called them playthings."
He undid the wrappings. "I wonder why Master Wu chose them. Worthy offerings for a great king?" He picked up the flute and smiled at Voyaging Moon. "This makes me think of that night in Cha-wei's yamen. You played beautifully. I'd never heard anything like it. Please play again."
Voyaging Moon put the flute to her lips. Instantly, the notes rose and hovered gently in the air. She stopped, surprised. "It hardly needs a breath. I don't know about the other gifts, but this one-Master Wu chose it well."
The girl began once more. At the first floating strands of melody, Jen felt his heart lighten. Within moments, his humiliation at the hands of Natha, his dismay at Li Kwang's disappearance, his failure to guard the offerings all turned weightless, borne away by the song of the flute.
As for Voyaging Moon, he could scarcely believe this was the same girl, barefoot, in coarse garments, with her high-cheeked peasant features. Her face shone with a golden light in the rays of the setting sun. Watching her, he felt she might vanish at any moment, carried off on the stream of music. He hardly dared to breathe. He sat motionless, hands folded, eyes lowered.
Mafoo stirred and raised himself on an elbow. "Marvelous!" He sighed. "It made me dream of dumplings." Voyaging Moon laughed. The spell was broken. She put down the flute. Jen urged her to keep on. She shook her head sadly.
"This is not mine to play."
"It must be given to Yuan-ming, if ever I reach him," Jen said, his voice heavy with regret. "It is not mine, either. Until I have to part with it, I leave it in your hands, to play as you will. This gift, at least, is worthy." Voyaging Moon put a finger to her lips. "Quiet. Careful," she whispered. "Don't move suddenly. Something's behind us in the bushes."
• • • • •
What now? Does yet another danger threaten our hero and his friends? To find out, go quickly to the next chapter.
10
• The Mad Robber •
• The Ear of Continual Attentiveness, The Nose of Thoug
htful Inhalations •
• Moxa Begs Forgiveness •
JEN SPRANG TO HIS FEET. For an instant, he feared one of the Yellow Scarves had come back. He threw himself at the black-garbed figure. Voyaging Moon and Mafoo instantly followed, wrestling the intruder to the ground.
Finding himself so briskly set upon, the man produced a number of bloodcurdling yells. Eyes rolling in terror, his long, ropy hair swinging wildly, he turned and twisted in every effort to shake free. By then, Mafoo had clutched him by the ears, and Voyaging Moon had gripped the collar of his long-tailed shirt; their opponent, all the while, bawled indignantly: "Be calm! Be calm! I only want to rob you!"
"That," burst out Jen, "is all I need to hear!"
"Turtle!" Mafoo shouted. "Son of a turtle! You'll get something you didn't bargain for."
"Leave us alone," Voyaging Moon ordered. "We've been robbed already."
"Oh? You have?" The man stopped struggling. "Never mind, then. My humblest apologies."
"Let him up," Jen told Mafoo, who had taken a seat on the would-be robber's chest. "Whatever he is, he's no Yellow Scarf."
"Certainly not," the man replied, in a wounded tone. "Honorable sirs and lady, you do me a grave injustice if you think I have any part of them. That gang of lawless ruffians? No, no, I go about my business according to the highest standards of conduct, the Precepts of Honorable Robbery. Ask anybody. You'll hear nothing but favorable reports of Moxa. Or, if you prefer, the Mad Robber."
"I never knew of a robber apologizing, that's true enough," Voyaging Moon remarked.
"I made an unfortunate error. But how could I have guessed?" Moxa sat up and rubbed his ears. In the tattered black shirt that hung below his knees, the ropes of hair drooping below his shoulders, the self-styled Mad Robber appeared more poverty-stricken than mad. He was thin as a rail, with lanky legs, bony arms, and sharp elbows. His attempt at growing a mustache had clearly failed; he had sprouted only a few reluctant hairs, giving his face the look of a starved cat with a very large spider sitting on its head.
"I'm happy to advise you," Moxa continued, "you qualify under the Precepts, which I consider inviolable. In all my career, I have never broken one of them."
"What are you telling us?" Jen asked. "Robbers have precepts?"
"Hardly any. That is, none at all. Not in these times. They have no respect for decency and tradition. Except my humble self. Centuries ago, the Great Robber Kwen-louen laid down the Precepts, which I follow as a matter of moral principle. The one that applies to you is: Never rob someone who has already been robbed; as they are already distraught, it would be heartless to make them feel worse.
"As for the others," Moxa added, "never rob the poor, for that would only add to their misery. Never rob someone you know, for that would be treacherous. Never rob the happy, celebrating some good fortune, say a birthday or a wedding, for that would spoil their moment of joy. By the same token, never rob the unhappy, which would make them lose hope altogether."
"That leaves only rich strangers?" said Jen, who had been listening with curiosity to Moxa's explanation.
"Exactly. Unless, of course, the other Precepts apply. A rich stranger may be as unhappy as a poor acquaintance; or have just been robbed; and so on."
"You don't look as though your Precepts are any help to you," Voyaging Moon observed. "It's difficult to find suitable candidates," Moxa agreed. "When you come down to it, most of them are exempt for one reason or another. No matter. I scrupulously obey the Precepts. Otherwise-why, I'd be no more than a common thief.
"But the fact is I didn't mean to rob you. Not at first. No, it was the flute. I was merely passing by when I heard it. Skulking and lurking as befits a robber, you understand. And what strikes my Ear of Continual Attentiveness?" Moxa tugged at one of his remarkably large appendages. "Music! Marvelous! Irresistible! It seized hold of me, pulled me along. I had to hear more.
"You were the one playing," Moxa said, with an adoring glance at Voyaging Moon. He jumped to his feet, eyes alight. "Amazing sensation! It made me think of home and loved ones. Not that I ever had any, but I thought of them, even so. And all manner of joyful things that never happened to me but seemed as if they should have. When you stopped playing," he added, "I thought: Ah, well, I'll practice my profession since I'm here. Nothing malicious, we all have to live as best we can. You didn't have to kick me. Or sit on me. Not necessary."
Moxa broke off suddenly. "Have you eaten?"
"We can't feed you," Jen said. "You'll have to find someone better provisioned than we are."
"I didn't mean that," Moxa said. "I meant that if you haven't eaten within recent memory-as my Eye of Discerning Perception tells me may be the case-I'll be happy to share what I have."
With that, the robber pulled out a sack he had dropped in the bushes. He rummaged in it, dredging up knotted cords, iron hooks, strips of wood, and a jumble of objects that Jen could not begin to identify. At last, he retrieved a handful of dry morsels and eagerly passed them around. With the efficiency of long practice, he scooped up twigs and dry branches and, within moments, lit a cheerful fire; all the while, like a host at a feast, he urged his guests to enjoy their food.
Biting into the leathery substance, Jen could not decide whether it was fish that had been too long in company with a chicken or the other way round. His hunger, nevertheless, had grown sharp, and he gnawed away gratefully.
"This won't keep us long from starvation," he murmured to Mafoo, who had downed his portion in one gulp. "I don't see any better course. We'll have to go to Kwan-tzu."
"What? What? Where?" Moxa exclaimed, cupping his Ear of Continual Attentiveness. "Kwan-tzu, did you say? Not the best of places. Not now."
"If you don't mind," Mafoo said, with a hard glance at the robber, "this is a private discussion. It doesn't concern you."
"Of course not, of course not, if you say so," Moxa replied. "But I can tell you this: While I was skulking and lurking, I came across those Yellow Scarves. And a band of villagers. I hid and listened to them. Trouble in the wind. The Nose of Thoughtful Inhalations sniffed it instantly. The Voice of Solemn Warning." Moxa lowered his tone "says: Keep away."
"The Yellow Scarves are the ones who robbed us," Jen said. "They took something from me. I want it back."
"Whatever it is, you won't get it," Moxa replied. "My Ear of Continual Attentiveness told me they're going to capture the town and kill the officials, the merchants-anybody who isn't with them. Go there and you won't come out again.
"On the other hand," Moxa continued, his eyes brightening and his cat's whiskers twitching, "the Voice of Daring Enterprise says: Why not?" Moxa waved his arms. "We dash in, take them by surprise, fight our way out, hacking right and left-do you have anything to hack with? then, triumphant celebration! Do it! Risk all! Magnificent!"
"Lunatic!" snapped Mafoo. "I have a voice, too. I call it the Voice of Plain Common Sense. It tells me: Don't look for trouble, we've had enough already."
"Mafoo's right," Jen said, after some moments of thought. Moxa, deflated, went back to munching his food. "Very well," Jen added, "we won't go there. But then what?"
"Young Lord," Mafoo began, "it seems to me."
"What was that?" Moxa stopped in midmunch. "What did you say? You called him."
"Keep your Ear of Continual Attentiveness to yourself," Mafoo retorted, "and your Nose of Whatever out of other people's business."
"Young Lord? Young Lord?" Moxa's agitation grew. "There were rumors of-Prince Jen! You're the son of King T'ai? The prince himself? In this condition?"
Jen nodded.
"What have I done?" Moxa clapped his hands to his head. "Assaulted a Royal Person! Monstrous! Horrible! A capital crime! Oh, misery! Oh, death! Sliced to bits, cut to pieces!
"Worse, I've broken a Precept!" Moxa wailed. "There's yet another: Never assault the Divine King or his offspring, it shows lack of respect. I'd put it out of my mind, almost forgotten. No likelihood of its happening. But it has happened. Unpardona
ble! Unforgivable!"
"Don't upset yourself," Jen said, trying to calm the despairing robber, whose howls grew louder with each breath. "I was the one who assaulted you. So, you aren't the one who broke a Precept. In any case, it doesn't matter. Because I officially forgive you."
"You do?" Moxa left off his wailing to stare openmouthed. "You really do?" He flung himself at Jen's feet. "No one's ever forgiven me for anything! My life is yours!"
"Not necessary," Jen began.
"I insist!" cried Moxa. "Wherever you go, whatever you wish, the Hand of Enthusiastic Obedience, the Heart of Eternal Devotion will serve you."
"Don't think me ungrateful," Jen replied, "but there's no way you can help us. For one thing, I don't even know where we're going. We started out for T'ien-kuo."
"T'ien-kuo?" cried Moxa. "The marvelous kingdom? I've heard of it since I was a child-at least, I think I did. The tales said it was far to the north. If it exists in the first place. You're going there? Lord Prince, why would you undertake such a journey?"
Despite Mafoo's disapproving frown, Jen explained his mission and told the robber what had befallen them since leaving Ch'aangan.
"All the more reason for me to serve you," Moxa declared. "I can guide you partway. It's not for the likes of me to set foot in such a place. No robbers allowed, I'm sure. But I'll take you as far as I can. The Eye of Perpetual Vigilance will watch over you. Starting this moment."
Before Jen could answer one way or the other, Moxa loped to the fringe of the bushes, folded his skinny arms, and stationed himself as motionless as a statue, peering into the rapidly gathering darkness.
"It's not such a bad idea, having him along," Voyaging Moon said. "If we need protection, a robbers as good as anyone."
"He's a maniac," Mafoo retorted. "Eye of Perpetual Vigilance, is it? Yes, well. I'll want to keep my own eye on that fellow."
"I think he's going with us whether we like it or not," Jen said. "Maniac he may be, I'm glad for any help, as things stand now. Let him stay."