He's counting on me. That was a good feeling.
I don't have a clue. That was a not-so-good feeling.
But he's counting on me. At least I have to try.
For the first time since Archie had thumped down onto the floor of the bedroom, Kevin tried to get his thoughts organized. He started by sorting through the things he'd learned about Archie. In his head he made two columns—"Essential" and "Nonessential," the way his dad had showed him in basic programming. Of course he didn't really know what was essential and what wasn't, so he changed the headings to "Important" and "Not so important."
IMPORTANT
He's a king.
He's from Korea.
He's a great archer.
He's got a special thing for animals.
NOT SO IMPORTANT
He brought chopsticks to Korea.
The animals he's told me about are: tigers, boars, dogs, horses.
He likes farmers and fishermen.
That seemed like a good start. It was funny: Now that his thoughts were more organized, Kevin really did feel a little less lost.
As he stood there thinking, Archie was quiet beside him.
What could we do—where could we go here in Dorchester that's related to any of the important things?
King of another country. They had embassies for people like that. The nearest Korean embassy was probably in New York City. Kevin knew that because his grandparents had gone there once, to help a distant relative sort out some travel documents—passport or visa or something. Maybe Archie would have to go there. But for now—logical order: New York City is three hundred miles away, and going there is not logical at the moment—Kevin pushed it down the list.
Archery? There might be an archery club or a range somewhere in the city, but Kevin had never heard of one.
Animals. What kind of animals? Kevin checked the NOT SO IMPORTANT list. Tigers. Archie thought tigers were the source of the magic.
Tigers meant the zoo. Which was a bit of a distance from where they were, but they could walk there.
The zoo next. Logical.
Kevin squared his shoulders and looked at Archie.
"You have an idea, Young Friend!"
"Yeah, Archer, I have an idea. We're going to the zoo. I don't know—it might not be much of an idea—"
Archie held up his hand. "In our quest thus far, have you learned anything you did not already know?"
"Well, sure, but—"
"And I, too, have learned a great deal about your world. With each step we have taken, we have learned more. I have no doubt that this next step will have the same result!"
Kevin couldn't help but feel a little more cheerful at Archie's optimism. They began walking north, toward the city zoo.
It would probably take them about half an hour to get there. Kevin shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and hunched his shoulders against the February chill. Archie didn't seem to notice the cold, even without a jacket.
Kevin had stopped worrying about Archie's weird outfit. Not many people were outdoors on such a cold, raw day, and the people in cars all seemed to zoom by without noticing them.
Archie walked beside Kevin silently, which was a good thing, because Kevin had to work out exactly how to get to the zoo. He'd never gone there on foot before; he'd always ridden in a car or on the school bus for field trips. But the zoo was not far from Dorchester State, where his parents worked. All he and Archie had to do was walk in the direction of the university, and the zoo was on the other side of Route 104.
That would be the only tricky part—crossing 104. The speed limit was probably 55 miles per hour, so the cars would be going fast. Kevin was pretty sure there was a pedestrian bridge somewhere, but he didn't know exactly where. They'd just have to find it when they got there.
Then he remembered something he wanted to ask Archie. "Archer, my grandfather told me that you once escaped from some enemies by crossing a river. But he didn't tell me the whole story. I was hoping you would tell it to me."
Archie made an odd sound, as if he was clearing his throat and chuckling at the same time. "It is a very good story!" he said. Then he shook his head. "But I cannot tell it to you."
"Why not?" Kevin asked before he thought. Oops—that was a question.
Archie didn't seem to mind. "The telling of stories in which the teller himself is the hero is unbecoming," he said. "It lacks modesty."
"But you told me the one about when you were a baby," Kevin protested, "and you were the hero in that one."
Archie looked cross at having been contradicted. "I was only an infant," he said. "I was unaware of being the hero, so it is not the same."
Kevin wanted to hear the story—it sounded like an exciting one. Besides, he thought the more he could learn about Archie, the better the chances of getting him home. "You could pretend to be someone else and tell it," Kevin suggested. "You know, in third person." His English class had been studying narrative voice. "Like, if it was a story about me, I'd say, 'Kevin did this, and Kevin did that, and Kevin did blah blah blah,' and it would be me telling it, but it would be like I was telling it about someone else. Get it?" he said breathlessly.
'"Blah blah blah'?" Archie shook his head. "It seems the stories of your world are strange indeed. But there is truth in what you say—the subject of a story can tell it in a way no one else can. Besides, it might help us pass the time on our journey. Very well, I will tell it as you suggest."
They were now walking past Westland House, one of Dorchester's landmarks. It was a famous photography gallery, and its grounds were laid out like a miniature park. In the spring there were lots of flowers and nice green bushes, but now everything was mud-colored. Brownish grass, bare branches, patches of muddy snow. There was hardly anyone else around—just an old man in a dark overcoat and hat strolling slowly along a path across the grounds.
Kevin put himself into what he called "listening mode." There was ordinary listening, and there was "ignore mode," too—when he made his face look like he was listening but let his mind wander to other things. "Ignore mode" was handy sometimes, especially if his mom was lecturing him.
There was one more switch in Kevin's brain. It went along with his listening mode, but he didn't always use it. It was "listen and record"—when he was really interested in something and wanted to remember it, like when Jason told him about shortcuts or secret codes to a video game. That was the one he'd use now.
7. The Turtle Bridge
"There was once a very fortunate king," Archie began. "Not only did he have a vast kingdom to rule, but he had been blessed with five healthy sons."
"Your father," Kevin whispered.
Archie raised his eyebrows. "No, not my father," he said. "Chu-mong's father. Remember, I am telling the story as someone else." Then he frowned. "And do not interrupt. A good story is like a waterfall. Cutting off its flow can lead to an unwelcome silence."
"Sorry," Kevin said.
Archie stared straight ahead for a moment, then continued. "Five healthy sons, yes. But the king was troubled. A fortuneteller had foretold that the youngest son would one day be a great ruler. This was not in the way of things; the king wished for his eldest son to succeed him one day. So the king tried to have this youngest son killed. But each time, friendly beasts came to the baby's aid. In the end, the king let him live—closely watched by his guards.
"The queen was saddened by these events, for she loved all her sons. Because of the king's dislike for the youngest, she tried to give him special love and attention. She saw to it that he received the usual training for a prince—in martial arts and archery, and in scholarly pursuits as well.
"It came to pass that the youngest prince had an extraordinary talent for archery. At nine years of age, his arrow could find a sparrow hiding in a bush. At fifteen, he could kill a running deer with a single arrow. Never before had anyone seen such ability with the bow.
"While this skill brought the prince much admiration, it was also to
bring about his near doom. So many warriors admired the prince that the king feared they would one day take the prince's side against him. One day the king called a council with his four eldest sons. He told them their youngest brother wished to cheat them out of their birthright and rule over them one day." Archie's voice grew hard. "He lied to them."
Kevin glanced over, alarmed at the change in Archie's voice. He saw that Archie's fists were clenched, his jaw set. Kevin spoke softly. "Someone else is telling the story, remember?"
Archie inhaled hard through his nostrils and rolled his shoulders. He nodded his thanks at Kevin, and when he spoke again, his voice was calm. "The four sons believed the lie. They made a plan to lure their brother into the forest and kill him.
"But the queen somehow learned of their plans. She warned her youngest son, and told him he had to flee that very night. He gathered his precious bow and his best arrows and slipped through the palace halls...."
Archie's voice lowered to a whisper. His eyes were focused on something in front of him, but far away. He's not here anymore, Kevin thought. Not on a city street in Dorchester—he's there, in that palace.... It's night, and he's creeping through those dark halls.
Still whispering, Archie continued: "At the stables, he met a small group of his most loyal friends. He had alerted them in advance, and they were ready with horses and a few supplies. They led the horses out of the stables on foot, quietly. After they were a good distance away, they mounted and rode south, into the forest. Toward the wild country where the tribe of the Yemek people lived."
So that was what a Yemek was.
"Chu-mong and his friends traveled all night. When the sun rose, the group ascended a high spur of rock and looked back. Far down the path they could see it—a huge cloud of dust caused by the pounding hoofs of many horses. Their escape had been discovered. The brothers were in pursuit, and they had been able to cover ground quickly, with the sun to light their way."
Now Archie leaned toward Kevin a little as they walked. "Chu-mong and his friends rode hard, but little by little the brothers and their band of warriors gained ground.
"At last Chu-mong came to a wide, wild river. There was no bridge. There was no way to cross. They were trapped.
"Chu-mong rode along the river, searching for a narrower, calmer place to ford. The enemies were so close that their shouts could be heard through the forest. Chu-mong saw the fear in the faces of his friends. 'I have brought them here,' he said to himself. 'They are in danger because of me. It is my responsibility to save them.'
"So saying, he turned to the only things he had left—his bow and arrows, and his faith in them."
Kevin's hands were in fists now. Things were about to get bloody.
"Chu-mong shot three arrows, one by one—not at the enemy, but into the river."
Kevin had to press his lips together to keep from bursting out with a question. Why the heck did he do that? What a waste of arrows!
"As the third arrow entered the river, the water suddenly stopped swirling and foaming. It became completely still, and many dozens of large turtles rose to the surface. They arranged themselves in a wide span, layer upon layer. Their hard shell backs now formed a bridge across the water."
Kevin couldn't stop himself. "No way!" But he snapped his mouth shut quickly, and Archie didn't seem to notice the interruption. Kevin could tell that he was still deep in the story world.
"Chu-mong and his party crossed the river safely. As the last hoof of the last horse reached the other side, the turtle bridge broke apart, and the river returned to its raging self. Chu-mong rode up the bank, then turned to see his brothers stop short at the river, their faces astonished. Neither bridge nor boat—how had Chu-mong crossed the turbulent water?
"And that was the last Chu-mong saw of them, their faces foolish with amazement. They had failed.
"He was alive. Alive and free."
Archie blinked, and his eyes seemed to clear. He looked at Kevin expectantly.
It was unbelievable. How could the arrows have signaled the turtles? How could the turtles have known what to do? How could they have supported the weight of horses and riders?
Impossible. The impossible things were really adding up today.
Still, it was a good story.
"Wow, Archer. That's amazing."
They walked on in silence, Kevin replaying the story in his head. The desperate nighttime ride; the dawn chase; the roiling river. Those three arrows disappearing into the foaming rapids ... and then the turtles rising to the surface.
Kevin didn't realize how long he'd been lost in thought until he saw that they had reached the turnoff for Dorchester State. The street on their left led to the front gate of the university. Kevin went to the right, toward the access road that merged onto Route 104.
When they reached the road, Kevin glanced to his left. No pedestrian bridge. He looked to the right—there it was, more than half a mile away in the wrong direction. There was no other way to cross; they'd just have to double back once they reached the other side.
They walked to the bridge in silence, then climbed the stairs. Kevin looked down through the metal-grating floor. The cars whooshed by underneath.
"Wah," Archie exhaled. "So fast, your dragon-carts!" He stopped to watch them for a few moments, shaking his head. "Why such haste, I wonder."
Kevin hoped Archie was talking to himself, because he didn't have a good answer. Archie didn't say anything more.
Once down the stairs on the other side, they headed for the road that led toward the zoo. Almost there, Kevin thought. And then what?
It occurred to him that maybe he should explain to Archie what a zoo was. Did they have zoos back in B.C times? Probably not.
'Archer, we're going to a place where a lot of animals live," he began. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the highway's traffic on their left.
Archie looked pleased. "A place inhabited by many animals!" he said. "The mountains? But I see no mountains here. A forest, perhaps?"
"No, no. This is a place where people keep animals from all over the world. They're not wandering around free—they're in these enclosures, and sometimes they stay in cages, and people come look at them. And they get studied there, too, so we can learn more about them."
"Ah, I have heard something of this!" Archie seemed excited. "Long ago the great Chinese emperor Wen Wang created a vast garden for animals on the palace grounds. It was known as the 'Garden of Intelligence' because wise men would go there to discuss questions about the world while viewing the animals. I never dreamed I would be able to visit such a place myself!"
Well, that was good. Archie knowing about zoos meant he'd be less likely to flip out when they got there. Kevin had been worried that Archie would be confused and maybe upset by seeing the animals penned up instead of roaming free. Zoos had been around a lot longer than Kevin had guessed; he'd thought maybe they were a modern-day thing.
"And does a tiger inhabit the garden?" Archie asked eagerly.
Kevin nodded. "But I don't think—I mean, I'm not sure how—" What was I thinking—that once we got there, Archie could just hop on a tiger and go for a ride?
"Do not concern yourself, Young Friend! Lead me to the tiger, and we will see what we will see."
At last they arrived at the zoo's large parking lot. Kevin stopped walking. He had to tell Archie something that he might not like.
"Archer, I'm pretty sure they're going to have a rule that you can't take your bow and arrows in there with you," Kevin said. "You can stay outside here, like you did before, and I'll go in and check things out. But if you want to come with me, we'll have to ditch the bow and arrows somewhere."
Archie crossed his arms and frowned, but Kevin was getting to know him better—He's not angry at me, he's angry about the rule. Then he began walking along the edge of the parking lot. Kevin followed him.
"I will enter," Archie said over his shoulder, "for at least a short while. It is not often that one has a chance t
o visit a Garden of Intelligence."
There was a big garbage can in one corner of the lot. It was empty except for a couple of plastic bags. Archie put the bow and the quiver into the bags. Kevin moved to help him, but Archie stopped him with a glare. Oops. I forgot. No one else is allowed to touch his bow and arrows.
Archie put the bags carefully into the garbage can. Then he stepped back and stared critically at the can, as if judging whether it was worthy to hold his precious weapons.
"We will not linger in the Garden of Intelligence," he declared. "I cannot be long parted from my bow and arrows. Already I feel a sense of unease at being separated from them."
He turned and marched toward the zoo entrance, Kevin trotting behind him. There was no line at the admissions kiosk. Kevin stepped forward and paid for two tickets. A dollar for students, four dollars for adults. He used a ten-dollar bill, which was all the money he had left, and got five dollars back in change. This was turning into a costly expedition.
He held his breath as they walked past the ticket taker, but she hardly seemed to look at them. She probably thinks it's some kind of martial-arts outfit.... I guess she's seen a lot stranger things before.
The zoo wasn't very large, and Kevin knew exactly where the big cats were. They took the walkway to the right and in less than a minute were standing in front of the tiger enclosure.
Farthest away from them was the indoor complex. It included the big roofed cages and an exhibit about wild cats. The cats could go from the cages to the outdoor area whenever they wanted.
Outside the complex was a large open space flanked by two high concrete walls. There were huge flat rocks and big logs for the tiger to climb and lie on. On the left side, the branches of a tall tree in the next enclosure reached out over the wall. On the right, there was a sort of jungle area with a bunch of smaller trees. The ground sloped down to a water-filled moat, which ended in another sheer concrete wall. This wall was topped by chainlink fencing, and from the walkway you could look through the fence and across the moat.