Li Kao jumped to his feet and clapped his hands sharply together.
“Nonsense!” he said. “There has never been a ghost dance that couldn't be broken, and there never will be. Ho, take us to the scene of the tragedy and you and I and Number Ten Ox will take care of the problem immediately.”
It was almost the third watch, the hour of ghosts, when we walked through the garden in the moonlight. The breeze sighed sadly through the leaves, and a lonely dog barked in the distance, and an owl drifted down like a falling leaf across the face of the moon. When we reached the wall I saw that the door had been removed and the hole had been bricked up. The old well was covered over, and the path was overgrown by weeds.
Li Kao turned to me. “Ox, have you been taught how to see ghosts?” he asked quietly.
I blushed bright red. “Master Li,” I said humbly, “in my village young people are not introduced to the world of the dead until they have become civilized enough to respect the living. The abbot thought that I might possibly be ready for instruction after the fall harvest.”
“Don't worry about it,” he said reassuringly. “The world of the dead is immensely complicated, but seeing ghosts is simplicity itself. Take a look at the wall where the door used to be. Take a very close look, and keep looking until you see something strange.”
I stared until my eyeballs hurt.
“Master Li, I see something that puzzles me,” I said finally. “That faint shadow above the rose bush cannot possibly be caused by branches, or by clouds passing the face of the moon. Where does it come from?”
“Excellent,” he said. “You are looking at a ghost shadow. Ox, listen carefully because what I am about to say will sound silly, but it is not. Whenever you see a ghost shadow, you must realize that the dead are trying to show you something, and you must think of the shadow as being a soft comfortable blanket that you would like to pull over you. It is quite easy. Calm your heartbeat, and clear your mind of everything except a comfortable blanket. Now reach out with your mind and pull it toward you, and then up over your head. Gently… gently… gently…. No. You are trying much too hard. It requires no effort at all. Think of the comfort and warmth. Gently… gently… gently…. Good. Now tell me what you see.”
“Master Li, the patch in the wall is gone and the door is back in place!” I whispered. “It is standing open, and the well is uncovered, and the path is clear of weeds!”
And so it was, although it was like a picture with a hazy frame around it that flickered at the periphery of my vision. Faint in the distance I heard the watchman rap three times with his wooden knocker, and the three of us sat upon the grass beside the path. Henpecked Ho reached out and squeezed my shoulder.
“Dear boy, you are about to see something very beautiful, and you will learn that there is beauty that can break the heart,” he said quietly.
The Great River of Stars was sparkling above us, like a diamond necklace clasped around the black velvet throat of the sky. The cassia trees sparkled with dew, and the high brick wall appeared to be painted with silver, and bamboos lifted like long fingers that waved in a soft breeze as they pointed toward the moon. A flute began to play, but it was like no flute that I had ever heard before. The same few notes were repeated over and over, softly and sadly, but with subtle variations in pitch and tone that caused each note to flutter in the air like the petal of a flower. A strange flickering light moved slowly through the trees.
I caught my breath.
A ghost was dancing toward us to the hypnotic rhythm of the flute. Bright Star was so lovely that my heart felt as though a hand were squeezing it, and I found it difficult to breathe. She wore a long white robe that was embroidered with blue flowers, and she was dancing down the path with indescribable grace and delicacy. Every gesture of her hands, every movement of her feet, every subtle swirl of her robe gave meaning to the word perfection, but her eyes were wide and desperate.
Li Kao leaned over. “Look behind you,” he whispered.
The door was closing. Closing very slowly, but just slightly faster than the unchanging song of the flute, and now I realized that the music was a chain that bound a dancing girl. Her eyes were agonized as she watched the door swing slowly shut, and two ghost tears trickled down her cheeks like transparent pearls.
“Faster,” I prayed silently. “Beautiful girl, you must dance faster!”
But she could not. Bound to a rhythm that she could not break, she floated toward us like a cloud, feet barely touching the ground, whirling with exquisite grace and pathetic desire. Her arms and hands and long, flowing robe formed patterns that were as subtle as smoke, and even the fingers that reached toward the door were positioned in the pattern of the dance. She was too late.
The door closed tight, with a cold cruel click of a lock. Bright Star stood motionless, and a wave of agony flowed over me like a harsh winter wind. And then she was gone, and the music was gone, and the well was covered, and the path was overgrown by weeds, and I was staring with wet eyes at a bricked-up patch in a wall.
“Every night she dances, and every night I pray that she will be able to get through the door to her captain, but she cannot dance faster than the music allows,” Henpecked Ho said quietly. “Thus Bright Star must dance until time comes to an end.”
Li Kao was softly humming the flute song as he thought, and then he slapped a knee with a hand.
“Ho, the chain of a ghost dance is woven from the victim's own desire, but that magnificent young woman is ruled by more than one desire,” he said. “No power in life or in death can prevent her from honoring her art, and it is artistry that will free a dancing girl. Your job will be to steal two swords and a couple of drums. Ox, I'd do it myself if I could be ninety again, but it looks as though you can have the honor of chopping off your arms and legs.”
“Of doing what?” I asked in a tiny voice.
“It is said that the challenge of the Sword Dance is stronger than death itself, and now is the time to prove it,” said Master Li.
I quivered in my sandals, and I saw myself trundling upon a trolley with a begging bowl clutched in my two remaining fingers. “Alms for the poor! Alms for a poor legless cripple…”
Every year there are well-meaning officials who attempt to ban the Sword Dance on the grounds that it kills or maims hundreds, if not thousands, and though the dance will continue as long as the great Tang sits upon the throne (the Son of Heaven devotes an hour a day to practice with the swords) I suppose that I should explain a “barbaric ritual” that may someday become as obsolete as scapulimancy.
There are two contestants, two drummers, and three judges. The drums set the pace, and once the dance begins it is forbidden to break the rhythm in any way. The contestants are required to perform six mandatory maneuvers in sequence, each with an increasing level of difficulty, and all maneuvers are performed while leaping—both feet must leave the ground—and require precise slashes with two swords over, under, and around the body, that are graded according to grace, accuracy, closeness of blades to the body, and elevation of leap. These mandatory maneuvers are very important because the judges must beware of mismatches, and if one of the contestants is clearly outclassed, they will refuse to allow the dance to continue.
The contestants begin quite far apart and move closer with each maneuver, and at the completion of the six mandatory maneuvers they are practically face to face. If the judges are satisfied they signal for the drummers to sound the beat of the seventh level, and now the dance becomes art, and occasionally it becomes murder.