Since there seemed to be no alternative, Jen resigned himself to spending the night outdoors. Voyaging Moon, wakeful, sat watching the embers; but Jen, to his surprise, found himself drifting off to sleep as soon as his head touched the ground.
It was daylight when he opened his eyes again. Voyaging Moon, up and about, pointed to the pair of figures.
"Moxa hasn't moved from the spot," she said. "He's watched over us, as he said he would. And Mafoo's been watching over him. Between the two, we've been well guarded."
Seeing his master awake, Mafoo came to join him. Moxa, about to do the same, halted and cupped his ear..
"Hark!" he cried. "Does the Ear of Continual Attentiveness hear the sound of horses? What can that mean? I'll find out."
"Wait," Jen called, "what are you going to do?"
"If they're travelers," Moxa said, with a snaggletoothed grin of happy anticipation, "I'll rob them, of course. But-no, no, I won't rob them. You will."
• • • • •
Will our hero, already a victim of bandits, turn bandit himself? Will the Mad Robber lead our friends into still more trouble? The answers are found in the following chapter.
11
• Honorable Fat-choy •
• Moxa Delves Into His Sack •
• The Collar of Punishment •
"YOU'LL DO THE ACTUAL ROBBING," Moxa went on. "As a precaution, you understand. Since it's not your profession, you aren't bound by the Precepts. Whereas if I do it, there's always a chance the candidate may qualify for exemption and I'd have to let him go."
"Moxa," Jen said, "I'm not robbing anybody. There's no way I can do that."
"A dozen ways," Moxa said. "Don't worry. Nothing to it, you'll see. As an amateur, you needn't concern yourself with refinements and niceties. I'll be there, of course. Not in a professional capacity, only to give small pointers when required."
Before Voyaging Moon and Mafoo could offer their own opinions, Moxa seized Jen by the arm and eagerly hurried him into the underbrush. The robber flung himself onto the ground and peered through the tall grass. Moxa's Ear of Continual Attentiveness had not deceived him. Within a few moments, Jen glimpsed a procession of some dozen attendants on foot, a supply cart, and a couple of pack mules. At the head rolled a boxy, two-wheeled carriage, its curtains drawn.
"All we really want is food. Anything else would be a nice little extra," Moxa said. "But, this being your first time out, don't bother about money, trinkets, that sort of thing. People get too upset when it comes to losing their valuables. The main thing is to halt the carriage. I'll do the rest. Any pretext will serve. Tell them your grandmother has colic, tell them-whatever comes to mind. Or do you prefer armed assault?"
"Lunatic!" Mafoo cried. "You'll get us deeper in a mess. Go rob them yourself. Better yet, just go."
"We need food, no question about it," Voyaging Moon told Jen, "but the simplest thing would be to ask."
"You say 'ask'?" Moxa exclaimed. "The Ear of Continual Attentiveness hears 'beg. What, the Young Lord Prince turns beggar? Please maintain dignity. Propriety. Begging, indeed!"
"Safer than robbing," Voyaging Moon replied.
"If it weren't for the Precepts, I'd do the work myself," said Moxa, whose face had lit up and whose Nose of Thoughtful Inhalations had begun trembling with excitement. "What's to go wrong? Here you have the most elementary type of robbery. The great Kwen-louen named it Bee Approaches Tiger Lily. Simple. Straightforward. Compared with breaking and entering!"
By this time, the procession had drawn close enough for Jen to read the calligraphy on the fluttering red banners proclaiming this to be the entourage of Official of the First Rank Fat-choy. With a cry of relief, Jen sprang to his feet.
"Now, once you're there," Moxa went on, "the first thing to do." Jen had already started through the bushes. He motioned for Voyaging Moon and Mafoo to stay back. "Keep Moxa out of sight," he called, hastening toward the road. "This could be a palace official. I'll deal with him myself."
He ran down the slope and broke through the undergrowth, hurrying to overtake the procession. Waving his arms, shouting at them to halt, he headed for Fat-choy's carriage. A pair of attendants blocked his path, angrily warning him away. Jen pressed on, calling out to Fat-choy, demanding assistance in the name of King T'ai.
With the attendants gabbling and clutching at him, Jen shouldered his way to the carriage. As the surprised driver reined up, the curtains shot open and Official of the First Rank Fat-choy himself popped out his head.
"Why stop?" Fat-choy's head, bald as a lemon, took up most of the window. His jowls overflowed his high necked collar, his eyes bulged out at the sight of Jen, and he began puffing and wheezing with indignation. "What does this mean? Disgusting individual, how dare you approach me?"
"Do you come from Ch'ang-an?" Jen demanded. "The Celestial Palace? You know me, then. I require your help. I am the Young Lord Prince."
Fat-choy pursed his lips. As he looked Jen up and down, his indignation turned to amusement. "What good fortune is mine, to meet such an exalted personage. No doubt you are in disguise, for reasons best known to your royal self."
"Thank heaven you recognize me." Jen heaved a sigh of relief. "When did you leave Ch'ang-an? How is my father?"
"For one thing," Fat-choy replied, "I am not attached to the Celestial Palace. Since you are gracious enough to inquire, allow me to inform you that I have been transferred from Feng-sia to be chief magistrate of Chai-sang.
"For another," Fat-choy continued, "you must admit that it is highly unusual to find the Young Lord suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Forgive me if I restrain my joy until I first beg to inquire how this has come about."
Fat-choy spread a fan and waved it lazily while Jen explained what had brought him to such a state.
"Naturally," Fat-choy said when Jen finished his account, "you can offer some small proof of these most remarkable statements."
"I told you my warrant was stolen," Jen said, with some impatience. "What proof? I have my servant."
"Enough." Fat-choy gave Jen an oily smile and snapped the fan shut. "As a magistrate, it is my profession and my skill to distinguish between truth and falsehood. I have listened with undivided attention and the highest degree of interest in your testimony and have reached the only proper and correct conclusion. You shall be granted what you require, what you clearly deserve and to which you are fully entitled.
"You asked if I recognized you," Fat-choy went on, beckoning to his attendants. "Although I have not seen you before, I know you very well indeed. That is to say, I know you for a barefaced, insolent liar." Fatchoy turned to one of the servants. "Take this dog and beat him thoroughly."
Before Jen could make a move, one of the retainers seized him by the hair and flung him to his knees while the other belabored him with a bamboo rod. Shouting with pain and outrage, Jen fought to break free. Fat-choy's retainer doubled the blows. Struggling, gasping for breath, Jen ground his teeth in useless fury.
"Lay on, lay on," Fat-choy urged, watching with a critical eye. "Diligence is a virtue. He thought to take advantage of my good nature. He should be grateful his punishment is not worse."
All that kept Jen from howling like an animal was his refusal to give Fat-choy added satisfaction. As the blows continued to rain relentlessly, Jen bit his lips, spat out blood and curses, while Fat-choy smiled and nodded, ordering his retainer to apply the rod more vigorously.
Jen felt himself spinning into unconsciousness when explosions ripped the air. The horses reared in alarm. Fat-choy dropped his fan, his chin collapsed into his neck. As the explosions continued, a gaunt figure bounded into the roadway. Shrieking horribly, shirt flapping, his ropy hair whirling about his head, Moxa leaped and spun like an acrobat, kicking out his legs, flinging himself against the terrified retainers.
Fat-choy regained his wits long enough to consider his immediate wellbeing. He bellowed for his driver to speed for their lives, popped his head back into the carriage,
and snapped the curtain shut. The horses plunged ahead, the retainers took to their heels, and the disarrayed procession went scrambling down the road in a cloud of red dust.
Next thing Jen knew, Voyaging Moon's arms were around him. Dizzy and breathless, his back feeling as if it had been rolled in hot coals, he tried to sit up while Moxa cavorted triumphantly, making impudent gestures at the departing carriage.
"Magnificent!" The gleeful robber turned his attention to Jen. "Never anything so splendid!"
"Are you out of your mind?" retorted Voyaging Moon, who had begun peeling off Jen's shirt to examine his injuries. "Look what they've done."
"Yes, marvelous, isn't it?" Moxa wobbled his head in admiration. "The Young Lord's brilliant inspiration! Who would have thought of getting yourself beaten to distract the candidate? A completely new technique. I must add it to my list. Call it Butterfly Dares Lightning."
"What exploded?" asked Jen as Voyaging Moon dabbed at his back. "It kept Fat-choy from taking off the rest of my skin, whatever it was."
"Firecrackers," Moxa said happily. "I always carry them in my sack. Part of my stock in trade. They do produce a lively effect, don't they?"
Mafoo, clucking anxiously like a bandy-legged hen, had meantime hustled to his master's side. He and Voyaging Moon helped Jen off the road while Moxa retrieved his sack and rummaged out a jar of ointment.
"I keep it on hand for scrapes and bruises," the robber said. "I gather a number in my profession."
"No doubt," Jen said glumly as Voyaging Moon gently rubbed the salve over his shoulders. "I've gathered a number, too, with nothing else to show for it."
"I wouldn't say that," put in Mafoo. "While our flute girl was setting off those firecrackers, and that madman was jumping up and down, I made off with the provisions." Mafoo's lumpy face broke into a proud grin as he motioned toward a horse and a cart full of victuals. "Fat-choy won't eat much today. But we will."
Instead of continuing immediately on their way, Voyaging Moon urged waiting until next day, and Jen was glad to agree. Despite Moxa's ointment, his back still throbbed, and he had turned a little feverish. He ate nothing of the meal Mafoo prepared, but slept fitfully, with Voyaging Moon at his side to calm him when he started up from a troubled dream. At nightfall, the girl took the flute from the bundle of gifts. As she played, the voice of the flute seemed to ease his injuries better than Moxa's ointment. He no longer reproached himself for having lost two of the valuable objects, and as his strength came back, he was eager to begin afresh. He felt confident of reaching the end of his journey, but his thoughts turned more to Voyaging Moon than to T'ien-kuo.
Next day, with Moxa striding out ahead, Mafoo and the cart bringing up the rear, Jen and Voyaging Moon walked along easily, side by side, hand in hand. After a time, however, Voyaging Moon began glancing at the sun and frowning with some perplexity. She called out to Moxa, who came loping back, cheerfully grinning.
"Explain something to me," Voyaging Moon said. "T'ien-kuo's north, isn't it? Why are you taking us west?"
Moxa blinked at her as if astonished by such a question. "Because the road's better, of course."
"Wait a minute," put in Jen, alarmed. "You're taking us in the wrong direction just because of a good road?"
"Naturally," Moxa said. "I'd be a fool to follow a bad one, wouldn't I? It's the nature of roads to turn, as this one's bound to do. I'm not in the least worried about it."
Mafoo by this time had come up to them. When he heard the robber's explanation, he dropped the horse's halter and seized Moxa by the shirtfront.
"Come straight out with it, you idiot!" cried Mafoo. "You don't have any idea where you're going."
"I do, I do!" Moxa protested. "We'll find our way, you'll see."
The two would have kept on squabbling, but Jen ordered both to silence. Hobbling down the road came an old man barely able to support himself on the staff he carried.
Jen stared, taken aback at the sight; for the man's head, covered with long white hair, matted and befouled, thrust out from a hole in a heavy square of wood wider than his frail shoulders.
"Avoid him!" Moxa turned his eyes away. "Don't go near. He wears the cangue, the Collar of Punishment."
Jen and Voyaging Moon, however, had already started down the road. "What punishment is this?" Jen murmured, appalled. "The cangue? I've never heard of it."
"Not likely you would," Voyaging Moon said. "A prince isn't expected to concern himself with small legal details."
As they drew nearer, Jen cried out in dismay. Despite the old man's blistered, sun-blackened face, Jen thought for an instant that he recognized him.
"Master Wu? No-it can't be. Master Fu?" Jen stopped short and looked again. His eyes had deceived him; it was neither.
For his part, the haggard old man peered sharply at Jen. "Why do you thus address me? I am Master Shu. And you? Are you the one I seek?"
"Who's done this to you? Why?" Jen bent closer. "Never mind that now. We'll get that collar off, to begin with."
"Beware." Master Shu raised a hand in warning. "My cangue is bolted, sealed with a magistrate's seal. It means a death sentence for the one who tampers with it. You know the law."
"I don't know it, but it won't be a law any longer, not if I have any say about it," Jen replied. "Whatever you've done, you'll be free of this collar. By my royal command. I'm Jen Shao-yeh, the Young Lord Prince."
"Are you, indeed? So much the better." Master Shu narrowed his eyes. He studied Jen for a moment, then spat in his face.
• • • • •
What ingratitude is this? By now, our hero should have learned caution in identifying himself to strangers. But who is Master Shu? What crime deserves such horrible punishment? Who is Master Shu seeking? The answers to these and other questions are found in the next chapter.
12
• Reason For Master Shu's Discourtesy •
• The Wrong Road •
• Master Shu's Advice •
"THERE," SAID MASTER SHU. "I hope you are sufficiently insulted and infuriated. If not, I shall find some other way to anger you. Have you suggestions?"
Jen, too shocked to reply, had stepped back. Despite his reminding himself that this was a feeble old man, his chin shot up and his eyes flashed. Having recently been beaten with a stick, he was not in a frame of mind to be spat upon, least of all when he intended a kindness.
"Excellent," said Master Shu. "I perceive definite evidence of irritation. By all means, nourish it. When it grows ripe enough, you might care to pick up one of those large rocks over there. Or do you own some weapon? I would prefer it to be sharp-edged and quick."
"Don't let him bait you," Voyaging Moon murmured to Jen, who was still making an effort to keep his temper. "I know what he wants you to do."
"You seem to have grasped my purpose quicker than your companion," Master Shu said. "If he will not oblige me, perhaps you will."
"What purpose?" Jen demanded. "To begin, why insult me? You have no reason."
"Indeed, I do," Master Shu said. "First, if you are the Young Lord Prince, as you claim, you deserve to be insulted for allowing such atrocities as this," he indicated his wooden collar "to exist in your kingdom."
"Not my doing," Jen protested. "Palace officials deal with laws. I know nothing of them."
"My point exactly," Master Shu said. "Second, no matter who you are, I hoped you would be furious enough to put me out of my misery. I will beg no one to release me from this cangue; that would set his own life at risk. Therefore, my alternative has been to seek someone who will do me the inestimable favor of dispatching me as rapidly as possible. Now, before your temper cools, please get on with it."
"I have the authority to free you," Jen said. "I'm the Young Lord Prince, whether you believe me or not."
"Oh, I believe you," Master Shu said. "What sane person would claim to be prince of such a kingdom as ours? Since you appear more or less in possession of your faculties, I conclude you have told the truth."<
br />
As Jen wondered whether to take Master Shu's logic as yet another insult, Voyaging Moon beckoned to Moxa, who had been cautiously keeping his distance.
"The Voice of Prudent Obedience tells me not to meddle with the law, no more than I've already done," said Moxa, when Voyaging Moon asked if he had means of breaking the bolts holding the collar shut. "However, the Whisper of Sympathetic Consideration tells me: 'Set the old boy loose and let the law look after itself."
From his apparently depthless sack, the Mad Robber produced a couple of iron bars and a wedge. He and Jen succeeded in cracking the seal and prying open the cangue. Mafoo, observing their efforts, threw up his hands.
"Not another old crock!" he moaned as Jen ordered him to bring food and drink for Master Shu, who had sat down in the middle of the road. "Remember that bird of ill omen, that wretched Fu! Please, no more stray geezers! Feed this one, yes, but send him on his way."
Master Shu evidently had no intention of moving from the spot. He wolfed down the victuals that Mafoo brought and seemed to regain a little strength even as Jen watched.
"I feel light as a feather." Master Shu licked his cracked lips and stretched his neck, which had been rubbed raw. "I had almost forgotten what it was like to be without this collar. How long did I wear it? A year? More? I have lost track of time. Magistrate Fat-choy sentenced me to the cangue for the rest of my life. Surely, he never expected me to survive this long."
"Fat-choy condemned you?" Jen broke in. "That overblown toad?"
"Yes, the magistrate of Feng-sia," Master Shu said. "I am a poet by occupation, and some of my verses off ended Honorable Fat-choys, indeed, I hoped they would. Nevertheless, I must admit that he chose a most emphatic way of expressing his critical opinion. Your reference to an overblown toad leads me to believe you know him."
Mention of Fat-choy made Jen's back smart again. He ruefully told Master Shu what the official had done, as well as everything else that had happened since leaving the palace.