"An admirable undertaking marred by regrettable incidents," Master Shu said sympathetically. "However, if you wish to reach T'ien-kuo, you must not continue on this road."
"Just as I thought." Mafoo beetled his brow at Moxa. "This idiot's taken us in the wrong direction."
"T'ien-kuo lies beyond the River Lo," Master Shu went on. "This road will eventually lead you to it, but it is long and very roundabout. From here, there is a much more direct way; also, much more difficult. However, if you have strength to follow it, you will arrive sooner at your destination."
"I'm sure you'll be kind enough to explain how we find that path," Voyaging Moon said.
"I was about to do so," Master Shu said. "It is somewhat complicated, but if you listen carefully."
"The Ear of Continual Attentiveness," Moxa began.
"Never mind that." Mafoo then quickly whispered to Jen, "Be sensible. How can we be sure he knows what he's talking about? He's a poet, isn't he?"
"You are quite right in raising such a question," said Master Shu, whose long punishment in the cangue had not damaged his hearing. "However, I assure you I am competent to speak of T'ien-kuo."
"You've been there?" said Voyaging Moon.
"Indeed, I have," Master Shu said. "It is a remarkable kingdom. I have seen it for myself. In a manner of speaking. That is to say, I have dreamed of it."
"What?" cried Mafoo. "Idiot! You've only been there in your dreams and you expect us to believe."
"Poets are seldom believed," Master Shu said, "but I can tell you that my dreams are very clear, precise, and exact. You can rely on them far more than on maps and geographical treatises."
Mafoo clapped his hands to his head. "Young Lord, send him off. He's worse than Moxa."
"Do we have better information?" Jen said. "Master Hu told me once that a dream can be as useful as a fact."
"Yes, especially in the case of T'ien-kuo," Master Shu said. "If you're sure you know the way," Jen said, after some long moments of thought, "will you guide us?"
"I am not at all certain I have the strength to venture so far," Master Shu said. "On the other hand, if you insist, how can I refuse?"
"You can if you try," Mafoo said to him. To Jen, he muttered, "First, you put yourself in the hands of a lunatic robber; now, another old crock, and a poet on top of it. Your trusting nature will be your ruination. And," he added, "mine as well."
• • • • •
Is Mafoo right? Has our hero made yet another mistake? How reliable is Master Shu? These questions require time to find their answers, so it will be necessary to go on to the next chapter.
13
• Guidance of Master Shu •
• Affairs of The Feet and Stomach •
• Affairs of The Heart •
MAFOO EYED MASTER SHU with the same enthusiasm he would have given a ten-day-old carp. Jen had no misgivings. He willingly followed the poet's instructions, turning off the road and onto a track leading across open countryside. Voyaging Moon urged Master Shu to ride in the cart. He shook his head, declaring that he had been tramping so long he would be uncomfortable doing otherwise.
"My feet will outlast any horse's hooves." Master Shu displayed his soles, covered with thick, scarred calluses, tougher than leather. "By the time we reach the River Lo," he added, "yours will be the same."
"Now, there's something to look forward to. I can hardly wait," Mafoo remarked. However, seeing no choice in the matter, he trudged beside Moxa, who continued insisting that he had not misguided them.
Despite his rising spirits, three questions troubled Jen. As the day wore on, he ventured to speak of them to Master Shu.
"About the gifts for Yuan-ming," Jen said. "As I told you, Master Wu chose six and I've lost two. Dare I now present only four? It seems a small number for such a great king."
"For one thing," Master Shu replied, "as you described the circumstances, I would not say that you lost them. You did what seemed altogether reasonable. Certainly, as far as the sword is concerned, had you not let that ruffian take it you would not be alive at this moment to make the journey.
"For another, will Yuan-ming know or care how many gifts you started out with? The important thing is that you will not arrive emptyhanded. Besides, along the way, you may find other gifts even more valuable."
Master Shu's words reassured Jen to some extent. He was satisfied that he still had sufficient offerings. Now he brought up another question troubling him as much.
"My royal warrant is gone. How can I prove who I am? You believed me, but Fat-choy didn't. Why should Yuan-ming take my word? I'll be a stranger to him-not a very princely looking one, at that. Will he even admit me to his presence?
"Once we reach the capital," Jen continued, "should I first write him a petition explaining what happened?"
"That's a reasonable thought," Voyaging Moon said. "It might be wiser than just walking up to the palace and trying to persuade the guards to let you in."
"Do you believe so?" Master Shu said. "Let me tell you the tale of Foolish Yang and the shoes.
"Deciding to buy a new pair of shoes, Foolish Yang measured his feet and wrote the figures on a piece of paper. Hurrying to the seller of shoes, he requested a pair matching the dimensions he had noted down. The merchant found such a pair and, offering them to Yang; urged him to try them on.
"Yang did so, then burst out unhappily: 'They pinch my toes! They rub my heels! Too short in length, too narrow in width. They fit me not at all!
"'Let me see that paper, said the shoe seller. 'Now, look here, Honorable Yang, they tally exactly with these measurements.
"Yang scratched his head and pondered a while. 'You are right, he said at last. 'Obviously, I made a mistake when I wrote out the figures. Very well, there is nothing else for it. I must go back home and measure my feet again.
"By the same token," Master Shu said, "to which will Yuan-ming give more belief: a scrap of paper, or the individual who wrote it? My dear young man, Yuan-ming is wise enough. He will know you for what you are."
Again, Jen felt reassured. One last question troubled him, and most deeply of all.
"My honored father wishes me to learn how Yuanming governs his kingdom," Jen said. "It did not occur to me at the time, but now I realize it means I'll have to study every one of his laws and precepts, his regulations, ordinances, decrees, analects-how shall I do this? I wasn't educated to be a scholar or official. I understand nothing of these things."
"You must know nothing before you can learn something, and be empty before you can be filled. Is not the emptiness of the bowl what makes it useful? As for laws, a parrot can repeat them word for word. Their spirit is something else again. As for governing, one must first be lowest before being highest. The pot must be broken before it can be mended." Master Shu left off, for Mafoo was calling to them. In the course of their conversation, Jen and the old poet had lagged behind. Running to catch up, Jen saw that Mafoo had halted at the edge of a steep cliff.
"Fine guide!" Mafoo exclaimed as Master Shu approached. "If I hadn't my wits about me, I'd have gone tumbling over, horse, cart, and all."
"Dear me, dear me," Master Shu said, "that would have been regrettable, especially for the horse. Very well, unhitch him and let him go his way."
"What?" cried Mafoo. "What are you saying?"
"We can hardly take a horse and cart," Master Shu replied. "We shall have difficulty enough climbing down with sacks of provisions on our backs."
"He's right," said Voyaging Moon, looking into the valley. "Too steep. There's no path at all."
"Master Shu," Jen demanded, alarmed. "Where have you led us?"
"Where you must go," said Master Shu.
Now followed a conversation between Mafoo and Master Shu. It consisted, for the most part, of Master Shu saying nothing, while Mafoo vigorously suggested that Master Shu was a greater lunatic than Moxa if he expected them to give up their only transportation and much of their food.
"He is very per
suasive," Master Shu said to Jen when Mafoo ran out of breath, "and he has your best interests at heart. The problem is: Either you trust me or you do not."
Jen stepped to the girl's side and studied the downward slope. As Voyaging Moon had told him, it was not possible to take the horse and cart.
"I have to trust him," Jen said finally. "I don't know what else to do." He took Voyaging Moon's hand. "If I follow him, will you come with me?"
"Did you think I wouldn't?" Voyaging Moon said.
Jen turned to Moxa. "I'm going with Master Shu. I can't ask you to do the same. You'd do better to go back to robbery-if you can ever find a likely candidate, that is."
"Never!" cried Moxa, flinging himself at Jen's feet. "The Heart of Eternal Devotion, the Hand of Enthusiastic Obedience."
"Mafoo," Jen said, disentangling himself from the devoted clutches of the Mad Robber, "my good Mafoo, best of faithful servants, you are wiser than I am, but I can only do what seems good to me. Go safely to Ch'angan. Tell my father I ordered you to do so."
"Young Lord," Mafoo said, "if you're set on doing something as foolish as this, all the more reason for me to keep an eye on you."
With that, Mafoo stumped to the cart and set about unhitching the horse. Master Shu trotted after him as the animal, glad to be relieved of its burden, tossed its head and kicked up its heels. The old man patted the horse's neck.
"Get along with you," Master Shu said. "You are free. Go about your business."
"Oh, no!" Mafoo puffed out his cheeks. "The old boy talks to horses?"
Shouldering as many sacks of food as they could, the travelers followed Master Shu, who had begun scrambling down as nimbly as a monkey. The old man was quicker and more surefooted than Jen could have imagined; nevertheless, it was late afternoon by the time they reached the floor of the dry gorge. Jen glanced at the cliffs towering high above.
"I'm wondering," he said to Master Shu, "how we're going to climb up on the way back."
"Do not concern yourself," Master Shu said brightly, turning a sharp eye on Jen. An odd note came into his voice as he added, "You will not set foot here again."
In the days and weeks that followed, Jen wondered if he had, in fact, done well to follow Master Shu. The old poet had warned of difficulties and had not exaggerated. This stretch of the valley, he explained, had long ago been the bed of a mighty river. The earth had rumbled and shattered, the river vanished; boulders greater than the whole Celestial Palace had been flung up as if no more than pebbles. Astonishingly, Master Shu easily clambered up them while Jen and the others strained and sweated to keep pace with him. Sometimes they lost sight of the old man, only to find him perched on the highest peak of a stone slab, waving his staff and beckoning to them.
In time, however, they grew hardened to the rugged course Master Shu had set, and the old man no longer outdistanced them. In the matter of their feet, Master Shu's prediction had been correct. Jen ceased to be aware of the sharp stones; Voyaging Moon, though accustomed to going unshod, saw that her soles had toughened still more. Moxa's boots had long since been torn to shreds, but he loped along, agile as a cat, making long-legged leaps from one rocky outcrop to another.
The summer sun blistered their faces and parched their throats. Yet, when their mouths had so dried that even Mafoo could barely grumble, Master Shu found some rivulet or trickle of water. As for food, by Jen's calculations it should have long since run out. Nevertheless, the apparently empty sacks of provisions always held yet another handful of rice or millet cakes. What disappeared was Mafoo's paunch.
"Look at me," he groaned. "Now my belt's too long by half. Keep on like this and I'll be thinner than a shadow."
"I don't think he minds all that much," Voyaging Moon whispered to Jen, glimpsing Mafoo furtively admiring his new leanness. "Even so, I have to agree with him."
Soon after, an eagle flew overhead, gripping a wriggling fish in its talons. Next moment, it let go of the fish, which dropped at the feet of Master Shu.
"Marvelous!" cried Mafoo. "Here's our dinner falling from the sky! Hold on there, old fellow, what are you doing?" he added as Master Shu bent down to put his ear close to the fish and seemed to strike up an earnest conversation.
"Begging his forgiveness and asking if he objects to our eating him," replied Master Shu. "That is only common courtesy. He agrees this time, but tells me not to make a habit of it."
Mafoo threw up his hands. "First he talks to horses, now he talks to fish." He cocked an eye at Master Shu. "Enough of your nonsense. How do you know what he says? You're not a fish."
"Nor are you Master Shu," replied the poet, smiling. "How do you know that I do not know?"
With Mafoo trying to puzzle out Master Shu's logic, the travelers enjoyed their best meal since entering the gorge.
That night, as she had always done, Voyaging Moon played the flute. Its music, in these bleak surroundings, had never sounded sweeter. When she finished and the last echoes died away, Master Shu happily announced that the most difficult part of their journey now lay behind them; within a day, they would reach the T'ung Pass, and from there he foresaw less than a week of easy travel to the banks of the Lo.
The old man's news should have cheered Jen as much as it did Moxa and Mafoo. Strangely, the closer he drew to his destination the more reluctant he became to end his journey. Even if Yuan-ming accepted him, Jen could not guess how long he might be obliged to remain. Weeks, probably months of study lay ahead before he started homeward again. Another question concerned him still more. While the others settled into sleep, he spoke of it to Voyaging Moon.
"If the end of my journey also means parting from you," Jen said, "I-then I think I will have journeyed uselessly. Whatever else I might gain, I will have lost something greater. Will you stay with me in T'ienkuo? Yuan-ming surely will make a place for all of us."
"If I do?" Voyaging Moon quietly replied. "And afterward?"
"Come back with me to Ch'angan," Jen said, taking her hand. "Does the Celestial Palace require a flute girl?" Her voice was light as her teasing laughter.
"No, it doesn't." Jen smiled at her. "I do."
"Aren't there enough musicians in the Celestial Palace?" Voyaging Moon said. "Why should the Young Lord Prince wish another?"
"There's no Young Lord Prince," Jen said. "Between us, there's no Jen Shao-yeh. Only myself. And yourself."
"That's easy to say, sitting on a pile of rocks in the middle of nowhere," Voyaging Moon replied. "Once you're in the palace again."
"You have my promise as well as my heart," Jen said. "I have no betrothal token. What I would offer you is a gift that must be given up: this flute. Even so, carry it now as if it were your own. If Yuan-ming is as gracious as Master Wu claimed, he'll understand that it is yours more truly than it can be his."
Voyaging Moon nodded and picked up the instrument she had set aside. "Whether I must part with it or not, you, too, have my promise." A cry from Master Shu made Voyaging Moon break off. The old man suddenly sat bolt upright, muttering wildly. As Jen and Voyaging Moon hurried to his side, he rubbed his eyes and blinked around.
"Dear me, dear me," he murmured, "have I been dreaming? I hope so. Sometimes it is difficult to be sure. There was another poet, once, who dreamed he was a butterfly. When he woke, he could not decide whether he was a poet dreaming he was a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he was a poet. No matter, either way it is only a dream."
Master Shu would say no more of what had disturbed him, and he beamed with delight when Jen and Voyaging Moon told him of their promises to one another. By this time, Mafoo and Moxa had awakened, and the news had to be repeated; it was met with so many joyous congratulations and blessings from the two of them that Master Shu at last had to urge them to leave off.
"That should be ample happiness for one day," he said. "Keep a little stored away. It might be needed."
• • • • •
Marvelous turn of events! What could be happier? Those who are content to end the tale
here with two young lovers need go no further. Those curious to learn more of the journey must read the next chapter.
14
• Happiness of Jen •
• Sadness of Master Shu •
• Ferryboat at the River Lo •
MASTER SHU, NEXT DAY, led the travelers through the T'ung Pass. Here, the rock-strewn course veered away. Jen found himself in the greenest woodlands and meadows he had ever seen. Along the forest track, yellow and crimson wildflowers turned the air fragrant. Birds of every color flew overhead or perched, singing, amid the trees. Monkeys skittered along the branches and chattered at the human intruders. Voyaging Moon laughed in delight as a gazelle daintily trotted across the path and halted a moment to glance at her before vanishing into the foliage.
Jen would have gladly lingered. He had never been happier. Hand in hand with Voyaging Moon, smiling whenever their eyes met, his loss of the sword and saddle and his beating by Fat-choy's retainers no longer seemed important.
"Mafoo once complained about Master Fu," Jen said to her. "If he hadn't fallen into the river, I wouldn't have fished him out and taken him with us. If I hadn't done that, I wouldn't have gone to Kwan-tzu. If I hadn't gone to Kwan-tzu, we wouldn't have met. Blame Master Fu? I should thank him."
As for Mafoo's usual complaints, they stopped altogether. Even more surprising, he no longer grumbled about Moxa and in fact had come to be on friendly terms with the Mad Robber. One day, when the travelers were obliged to ford a deep stream, Mafoo unhappily eyed the swift current and admitted he could not swim.
"Hop on the Shoulders of Reliable Support," Moxa said. "You're lighter than you used to be."
With Mafoo clinging uneasily to his back, Moxa plunged into the water up to his nose. Once across, when Mafoo thanked him, Moxa shook his ropy hair and grinned happily.