Master Li’s bow wasn’t quite so graceful, but it was very good.
“The honor is mine, for Yen Shih is said to be puppeteer to the gods on temporary vacation from Heaven, and Yen Shih’s daughter has also earned the jealousy of mere mortals.” Master Li dropped the artificial air and accent of formal speech and switched to the people’s vernacular. “I’ve seen you perform three or four times. If you got any better you’d be accused of witchcraft, speaking of which I’ve heard your daughter is absolutely the best.”
Master Li turned to me. “No, she isn’t a witch,” he said with a laugh. “She’s a female shaman, a shamanka, who specializes in the old rituals, and nothing but good is said about her.” He turned back to the puppeteer. “Ox has never seen the Yu, so I’m taking him inside for a look,” he added casually.
That was a subtle way of inviting information without demanding it. Yen Shih might be famous and respected, but as a puppeteer his social rank was precisely at the bottom. He had absolutely no right to set foot upon aristocratic premises like Hortensia Island—even less right than I would have if I hadn’t been with Master Li—but on the other hand he wasn’t being pressed to explain his presence. He decided to do so voluntarily.
“I come here often just before the seasonal sacrifices. The purpose is to steal something,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve offered to buy the stuff time and time again but I always get turned down, and I would be honored to have witnesses to my crime.”
“The honor shall be ours,” Master Li said graciously.
So there were three of us as we continued up the path. Master Li was perfectly content to let Yen Shih take the lead, and the puppeteer pulled weeds aside and ducked low and stepped into the opening of a natural rock tunnel. Inside the entrance was a barrel holding a stack of torches and Yen Shih and I each lit one, and then we followed the tunnel on and up into the heart of the famous Yu.
I really don’t know what I was expecting. I do know that I was disappointed. There was practically nothing to see. It was only a cavern of stone worn smooth by water, with a small round hole in the center of the floor and a maze of little tunnels leading up and out through the roof. Even the ancient altar was no more than a large stone blackened by fires of thousands of years ago, and I have to admit that I found the modern touches more interesting than the ancient ones. The modern part was simply the stack of crates holding ceremonial material for the rites of the next moon, since the Yu cavern was traditionally used for such purposes, and Yen Shih walked over to one of the crates and lifted the lid and smiled down at the contents.
“What thief could resist it?” he asked.
I stared at the stuff. “Clay?” I said.
“Very special clay,” said the puppeteer. “It comes from the bank of a river near Canton, and it’s used to blend with incense and form fragrant figures of sacrificial animals. I’ve been trying without success to buy it, because it’s perfect for modeling puppets I’ll eventually carve in permanent form.”
I watched with awe as his fingers swiftly kneaded a ball of the clay. A marvelously funny laughing face appeared, a merry woman, and then with a flick of fingers it became the sorrowful image of a weeping old man.
“I don’t need much, but it’s fragile stuff and several times a year I have to steal a bit more of it,” Yen Shih said with a shrug, and then he neatly wrapped some clay inside a piece of oilskin and tied it around his waist beneath his tunic.
“I’ll see if I can get you a permit,” was Master Li’s only comment. Then he changed the subject. “Let’s show Ox the wall carvings. A friend of ours has an interesting theory concerning who they’re meant to represent, although he hasn’t the slightest idea what they’re supposed to be doing.”
Again Yen Shih led the way with his torch, and I must honestly report that again I was disappointed. The famous frieze was in a long side tunnel that tapered to a tiny hole looking out over the lake, and at first I didn’t see anything at all. It was only when Master Li had me hold my torch close to the wall that the figures appeared, and even then I could barely make them out.
Eight hooded men were seen over and over, apparently performing different stages of some sort of ritual. The stone was worn almost smooth, and no details were visible. Each of the shamans—if that’s what they were—seemed to be carrying something, but no trace of the objects remained. So far as I could see they could have been doing anything from sowing a field to celebrating a marriage, and the few surviving symbols above them that Master Li identified as birds of some sort didn’t mean anything either.
“It’s a real pity there isn’t a clearer record,” Master Li said regretfully. “One would expect to find more carvings of the eight figures, but so far as I know none have come to light.”
I realized that Yen Shih was standing very still with his eyes fixed on Master Li’s face. I could see he was weighing various factors, and then he came to a decision.
“I haven’t been totally truthful. I come to the island to steal something else as well, and I think you may be interested in looking at it,” he said.
We followed the puppeteer back into the sunlight. He turned left and began to climb a small winding trail to the top of the crag and the row of astronomical instruments that were used to confirm predictions of eclipses in the annual imperial calendar.
“Incredible waste,” Yen Shih said, pointing at the huge metal base the instruments rested on, glinting dully in the sun. “That’s partially high-grade bronze and partially Dragon’s Sinew, meaning an alloy of a small amount of copper, twice as much antimony, and a great deal of tin. It costs a fortune, relatively speaking, and I need a lot of it to make nearly invisible wires for my puppets. Fortunately, I could keep digging this stuff out for several centuries.”
A long flat rock lay beside the platform, and when Yen Shih lifted it I saw a deep hole, big enough to slide into. He did so, taking the torch he still carried, and when he climbed back up the torch was still below, illuminating a small cave.
“There isn’t space for two, but you may find my Dragon’s Sinew mine rather interesting,” he said cryptically.
Master Li went first, and I heard a sudden sharp exclamation, and then his voice lifted happily. “Yen Shih, everything I have is yours!”
Some minutes later he had me lift him out, and then I squeezed down through the hole myself. The torch was stuck in a crevice, burning brightly, and the first thing I saw was the puppeteer’s “mine.” The workmen had poured Dragon’s Sinew with lavish abandon, leaving large congealed pools of the stuff, and Yen Shih had been very neatly chipping away at the edges. As I followed the glinting path of the metal I saw it run into a shelf of solid rock.
“I’ll be the Stone Monkey!” I yelped, and I heard Master Li laugh up above.
Yen Shih had led us to his private gallery as well as his private mine. “Eight! I’ve found all eight!” Ma Tuan Lin had written before a monster burned a hole in his back, and here carved in stone were the eight hooded shamans of three thousand years ago, and the details had not worn away. They were carrying eight cages precisely like the one concealed beneath Master Li’s pallet.
6
A short time later we were seated on the bronze platform beside the astronomical instruments sipping wine—meaning Yen Shih and Master Li were emptying the latter’s wine flask while I drank plum juice with vinegar from my own flask. The puppeteer appeared to have insides of solid copper. Alcohol didn’t seem to affect him at all, and he was getting on splendidly with Master Li, who was in an expansive mood.