“Hurry, Fernanda!” I yelled as I started through the trapdoor. It was a miracle we didn't kill ourselves. Still covered in little living things, my niece and I swatted them off as we climbed down. I soon heard the dry thud of the hatch as it closed above our heads, and a shower of cockroaches and beetles rained down, grazing my hands and face. Lao Jiang had turned off the bamboo torch so we couldn't see a thing. It was better that way, to be honest. I had no desire to see the baggage I was carrying.
It wasn't very far to the bottom—thirty feet, perhaps. We were soon on the ground, and I heard Fernanda stomping, squashing everything under her feet, every footfall accompanied by crackles and crunches. Lao Jiang lit the torch as soon as he reached the bottom. We were overrun, they were everywhere: in our hair, on our faces and clothing, it was absolutely horrific. My niece and I brushed one another off as the men took care of themselves. The floor was littered with crushed bodies floating in a thick, yellowish puddle. Finally we were able to stop scratching and hitting ourselves as if we'd gone insane. We walked a few steps away from that disgusting stain, turning our backs so we wouldn't have to look at it.
“Are you finished?” Lao Jiang asked.
Fernanda hiccupped by my side, drying the tears brought on by nerves, while Biao's face was frozen in a look of disgust. I was compulsively brushing off my arms, getting rid of insects that weren't there.
“Let's inspect this new level,” he suggested.
I couldn't see well because the place was quite large and we didn't have much light, but I thought I could make out tables that were set as if for a banquet.
“Take a look for whale-oil receptacles, Lao Jiang,” I urged.
“Give me a hand, Biao,” the antiquarian said, and the two of them walked over to the walls. When Lao Jiang moved away, Fernanda, Master Red, and I were left in the dark, but as our eyes adjusted, we were able to see a bit more of that enormous room where there were indeed three tables placed in the shape of a horseshoe with the opening facing us. When the antiquarian and Biao finally lit the vessels, the area took on a new dimension and appeared to be an impressive, sumptuous banquet hall. The walls were decorated with gold dragons and whirls of jade clouds, and the floor was tiled black, like in the funeral palace. Also as in the palace, a huge black stone slab some six feet long came straight down from the ceiling to the floor just behind the head table. A large grid was carved into it, the lines inlaid with gold. Near the lanterns were impressive baked- clay sculptures like the ones we'd seen outside the palace, but these didn't depict humble servants or elegant officers. Instead they looked like performers ready to begin some sort of show. They all had their hair pulled back into ponytails, were barefoot and naked except for short skirts that showed off great muscled chests, arms, and legs. They looked like acrobats or fighters of some sort. Their faces, so serious and impassive, were frightening. I ignored them and for the next while repeated to myself that they were nothing more than a pile of mud in human form; mud, not people, lifeless clay.
What really caught my eye were the three tables, still covered in luxurious brocade cloths and a vast array of trays, plates, bowls, curvaceous bottles, mugs, jars, jugs, fruit bowls, spoons, chopsticks, and more. Everything was made of gold and precious stones. It was an absolute wonder. We approached very carefully, intimidated as if we were a band of beggars trying to sneak into the emperor's grand funeral banquet. I had the impression that it was a celebration for ghosts, a fete for the dead condemned to participate in that macabre gathering for eternity. An icy shiver ran down my spine, and every hair on my body stood on end. Once we got closer, when we were about fifteen or twenty feet away, we discovered that the plates weren't empty. There was no food, of course, but a strange stone cylinder made to look like a napkin for each guest. Perhaps they were a sort of place card, although they were as thick as my arm and made of a rough, gray stone that stood out against the fine gold surfaces. I counted twenty-seven chairs per table. Multiplied by three, that gave a total of eighty-one of those cylinders. Master Red walked straight over to pick up the closest one.
“Be careful!” Lao Jiang warned.
“Careful of what?” I asked timidly. Master Red, who already had the piece in his hand, looked at the antiquarian curiously as well.
“I'm just saying we should be careful. We're right above the First Emperor's true mausoleum, and I think we need to be particularly cautious. That's all.”
“But there's no mention of unexpected danger in the jiance,” I reminded him. “The only thing it says about this fifth level is that there's a special lock that can be opened only by using magic.”
“A special lock that can be opened only by using magic?” Master Red Jade repeated inquisitively.
“Exactly,” I confirmed, walking quickly to pick up another of those stone rolls.
“That must be what this is,” Fernanda announced, pointing to the floor. She was right in the center of the room, in the middle of the three tables. I walked over to her, and the others followed.
I had seen that design before. It was the same as the one on the slab behind the seat of honor. I lifted my eyes to compare the two: They were identical except that the one on the floor was much larger and there was a hole in each box, holes that were the exact size of the gray cylinders. I studied the one in my hand and discovered a Chinese ideogram carved in relief on the bottom.
“It's a nine-by-nine grid,” Lao Jiang commented, “so there are eighty-one holes in the floor and eighty-one stone rolls on the tables. We've found the lock. Now all we have to do is find the magic.”
I wasn't capable of finding anything by this point. I was hungry and tired, and my body still itched as if it were covered in bugs. We'd spent all day passing tests, descending from one level to another. It had to be quite late, dinnertime at least, and I couldn't go on. Besides, weren't there exquisitely laid tables and a magnificent dinner service we could take advantage of in order to feel like royalty as we ate our humble provisions? It was the perfect place for a rest.
Not even Lao Jiang could refuse, though a flicker of annoyance did cross his face. We used the torch to boil water and were finally able to drink a cup of hot tea—nectar of the gods—and the balls of seasoned rice tasted heavenly. In Paris, I would have refused both with disgust, sickened by look of them and the dirt on our hands. I would have worried about germs and digestive illnesses. Here, I didn't care. I just wanted to eat off those beautiful dishes—the layer of thousand-year-old dust would simply be a little added protein. Sometimes I couldn't believe I was the same person.
The children began to yawn and nod off as soon as dinner was over, but Lao Jiang was adamant. We were just one level away from the First Emperor's mausoleum, and we weren't going to sleep now. If the children were tired, they should have another cup of tea and splash a little water on their faces. No sleeping. It was time to think. It was time to find the magic that would open the lock so we could reach Shi Huang Ti's true burial place that very night.
“Do you know what'll happen when we arrive, Lao Jiang?” I asked defiantly. “We'll fall asleep right there, next to the desiccated body of that old emperor. We're tired, and there's no sense in continuing our search tonight. Today we've made it through the crossbows by dancing the Steps of Yu, discovered the hexagrams from the I Ching that marked the route to the exit on the second level while being poisoned by methane, followed the path of energy through the Nine Stars of Later Heaven, risking our lives on those awful ten thousand bridges, arranged the sixty-six bronze bells of the Bian Zhong according to the theory of the Five Elements, and finally we're here after passing through a room filled with horrible insects that nearly devoured us. This was our first decent meal of the day, and you want us to carry on and solve a new puzzle without getting at least a few hours of sleep?”
I felt a wave of solidarity from the children and Master Red, who were looking at me and nodding their heads as they stifled yawns.
“I don't understand,” Lao Jiang objected coldly, ??
?why you want to stop now, Elvira. We're so close to achieving our goal; it is literally within our grasp. Sleeping in front of the door to the treasure is the most absurd thing I've ever heard. It's no time to rest. It's time to discover the combination for this damn lock so we can obtain everything we left Shanghai for and risked our lives for a thousand times over these last few months. Don't you understand?”
He turned to look at Master Red and asked, “Are you with me?”
Master Red Jade closed his eyes and didn't move, but after a few seconds of hesitation I watched him slowly stand. Lao Jiang was the devil himself, taking pity on no one.
Turning toward the children, he asked, “And you two?”
Fernanda and Biao looked at me in search of the answer. I truly wanted to kill the antiquarian, but it was no time to get blood on my hands or start an argument. We could last a while longer. Once our trek was finished, we could sleep for hours.
“I'll make more tea,” I said, getting up from my seat and nodding to the children to follow Lao Jiang and Master Red.
I listened to them talk as I boiled water. Fernanda and Biao had gathered the cylinders off the table, and the two men sat on the floor examining them.
“Their bases are numbered from one to eighty-one,” Lao Jiang said.
“True, true …” Master Red murmured sleepily.
“Why don't you study the design that's on the floor and the slab first?” I asked as I dropped tea leaves into the water.
“The design is quite clear, Elvira,” Lao Jiang said. “It's a nine-by-nine grid, each square the same size and each with a hole in the center where these eighty-one cylinders fit. The problem is the arrangement, the order in which they should be placed.”
“Ask Biao,” I advised, pulling the tea leaves out of the cups.
The two men looked at each other, and very slowly, with cold determination, Lao Jiang stood and grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck, leading him over to the large grid and the cylinders. Biao was exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open, and I didn't think he would be much help.
“We'd better start at the beginning,” he mused, drawing out his words. “With the jiance. What exactly did the architect say?”
“Again?” Lao Jiang barked.
“He said that on the fifth level there is a special lock that only opens by using magic,” I recalled as I held out a cup of tea for the poor boy.
“Using magic,” he repeated. “That's the key. Magic.”
“This boy is an idiot!” Lao Jiang shouted, releasing him roughly.
“Don't you dare insult him!” I snarled. “Biao is no idiot. He's much more intelligent than you, me, or all of us put together. If you say one more word like that, you can solve the puzzle on your own. The children and I have more than enough with the jewels from the funeral palace.”
A bolt of rage flew from the antiquarian's eyes, piercing me through and through, but I wasn't scared. I was not going to allow him to humiliate Biao just because he was impatient to reach the treasure.
“Da Teh,” Master Red intervened, still studying the board on the floor as if nothing else were happening around him, “Biao might be right. The key to this puzzle might be magic.”
The antiquarian remained silent. He didn't dare insult Master Red, but from the look on his face it was clear he was thinking the same thing he'd thought of Biao.
“Do you remember Magic Squares?” the monk asked, and Lao Jiang's expression changed, a light spreading over his face.
“It's a Magic Square?” he asked, incredulous.
“It might be. I'm not sure.”
“What's a Magic Square?” I wanted to know, leaning in to take a look.
“One in which the numbers in the grid add up to the same amount vertically, horizontally, and diagonally. It's a symbolic Chinese exercise that is thousands of years old,” Master Red explained. “There's a very ancient tradition in China that relates magic with numbers. The earliest legend says that the first Magic Square was discovered by …” Master Red laughed. “You'll never guess.”
“Who?” I asked impatiently.
“Emperor Yu, of the Steps of Yu. Legend says that what Yu saw on the shell of a giant tortoise that emerged from the sea was actually a Magic Square.”
How many versions were there of what Yu had seen on that blasted tortoise shell? Master Tzau had told me it was the signs that gave rise to the hexagrams for the I Ching, while Master Red Jade said it was the path of energy through the Nine Stars of Later Heaven, and now he was telling me it was actually a Magic Square on the animal's shell.
“Now, Master Red Jade,” I protested, “don't you think that poor tortoise had too many things on its shell to be able to emerge from the sea at all? I've heard three different versions of the same story.”
“No, no, madame. In reality they all say the same thing. It's hard to explain, but believe me, there's no difference between them. Do you remember the path of chi energy we followed along the suspension bridges?”
The music for “Por Ser la Virgen de la Paloma” began to sound in my head.
“Of course I remember,” I replied. “North-southwest-east-southeastcenter-northwest-west-northeast-south.”
Everyone looked at me in surprise.
“What's the matter?” I said. “Can't I have a good memory?”
“Of course, madame. In any event, that's exactly the path the energy follows.” He stopped for a moment, still taken aback. “What was I going to say? Oh, yes! You see, if we take that path and number the square columns we pass through from one to nine, the north would be one, the westsouth two, the east three, and so on until we reach the south, which would be nine (and remember, south is at the top and north at the bottom according to the Chinese way). If you now consider those columns to be squares inside a three-by-three grid, you'll have the first Magic Square in history, over five thousand years old. That is the one Emperor Yu found on the tortoise's shell. If you do the same but follow the descending path of energy, you'll create a different Magic Square.”
I tried to picture what Master Red was saying and saw, with some difficulty through my exhaustion, three lines of numbers: The top line consisted of four, nine, and two; the middle contained three, five, and seven; and the bottom had eight, one, and six. All the rows added up to fifteen. All the columns also came to fifteen, as did the diagonals. So this was a Magic Square. It seemed a little silly to waste time on such mathematical games. Who would invent such a thing?
“So this is a Magic Square?” I asked.
“It's the only answer I can come up with,” the monk said sadly. “During the First Emperor's time, it was a noble mathematical exercise, and only a few master geomancers knew of its relationship to feng shui. Remember, feng shui was a secret science available only to emperors and their families.”
“So then, do we really have to place those eighty-one cylinders such that all the rows, columns, and diagonals add up to the same amount?” I asked, appalled. It was sheer madness.
“If that's the case, madame, we might as well give up. There is nothing more complicated in the world than a Magic Square, especially if it's as big as this, nine by nine. If it were three by three, like the path of energy, or four by four, we might have a chance, but this is an impossible problem. I'm afraid we're looking at the securest lock in the world.”
“No wonder, considering what it protects,” Lao Jiang grumbled.
“Well, what can we do?”
“Nothing, madame. We'll try, of course, but what are the chances we can correctly align eighty-one stone rolls at random?”
“Don't be so pessimistic, Master Red Jade!” Lao Jiang burst forth, pacing to and fro like a caged animal. “I assure you we aren't leaving until we figure it out!”
“Then let us sleep!” I snapped. “We'll all think better after a few hours of rest.”
The antiquarian looked at me as if he didn't know me and continued his desperate pacing from one corner of the board to the other.
; “Let's sleep,” he finally conceded. “We'll solve this tomorrow.”
Thus we were finally able to unroll our k'angs and rest after such a bizarre, exhausting day. I had strange dreams that combined all sorts of things: the Bian Zhong with the bright carp in Yuyuan Gardens; the old nun Ming T'ien with the path of turquoises I'd left on the second level of the mausoleum; the arrows from the crossbows with Rémy's lawyer, Monsieur Julliard; Fernanda falling into an enormous shaft and me unable to get her out; Lao Jiang using the cane he had in Shanghai to break all the statues of the First Emperor's servants; Master Red and Biao dragging themselves over that board on the floor consisting of eighty-one squares…. I didn't know where I was when I opened my eyes. As usual, the others were already up, having breakfast, and so I had missed our tai chi.
“Good morning, Auntie,” my niece said when she saw I was awake. “Did you have a good rest? You were sleeping so soundly we didn't want to wake you.”
“Thank you,” I said, getting out of my k'ang. “Could I have some tea?”
Fernanda held out my cup and a piece of bread.
“That's all there is,” she said by way of apology. I shook my head to indicate it didn't matter and thirstily drank my tea. My head hurt a little.
That was when I saw Biao and Master Red bent over my Moleskine sketchbook. The boy was drawing something with one of my pencils. Fernanda noticed and nudged him in the ribs. Biao lifted his head, stunned, and looked in all directions until he was caught in my gaze.
“What are you doing, Biao?” If my voice had been a knife, Biao would have been sliced in two. He opened his mouth, squinted, made strange faces, and finally mumbled a series of incoherent words. “What did you say?”
“I said I needed your sketchbook, tai-tai, and since you were sleeping …”
“And why did you need my sketchbook?”
“Because I had a dream last night and wanted to make sure—”
“So you took my sketchbook because you dreamed something you wanted to make sure of?”