Although she waited a little further, he did not elaborate, simply opening the door for her.
It did not take long for the driver to reach their goal, and even at this early hour the city was awake and functioning. By the time they reached China-town it was obvious that the inhabitants of this district were accustomed to rising before dawn, for they were already hard at work at any number of tasks.
Walking in China-town was like walking in another world entirely. Most of the Chinese here wore their traditional dress, though some affected European-style suits and dresses; she even caught sight of a few unfortunate damsels tottering along on tiny, bound feet. Strange aromas filled the air—incense, odd cooking-smells, odors she could not define. And everywhere, the twittering syllables of a myriad of Chinese dialects fell upon her ears.
Snyder led her to a tiny, dark shop with a storefront window displaying bones, dried fish, the preserved body-parts of any number of animals, and bunches of dried herbs. The gentleman behind the counter looked precisely like an ancient Mandarin noble except that his fingernails were of normal length. He wore a round, blue brocade hat surmounted by a button, and a matching quilted, highcollared jacket; his thin, scholarly face was graced with a long, white moustache.
But when he spoke, he sounded exactly like Doctor Lee—his words were formed in a crisp, precise, Oxford accent.
"Mr. Snyder!" he exclaimed. "How good it is to see you! Has Master Cameron an order for me?"
He extended his hand across his counter-top, and Snyder shook it gravely. "Master Cameron does not have an order, but this young lady who is assisting him in his research does, if you would be so kind as to give her the benefit of your expertise." Snyder then turned and indicated Rose. "Master Pao, Miss Hawkins."
She extended her hand, and Master Pao took it with a smile that was neither servile nor ingratiating. His grip was firm and quite strong, and she had the feeling that if she had not been wearing gloves, she would have found his hand to be warm, the skin of his palm dry. It was, as her father would have said, a "proper handshake."
"I would be happy to assist a colleague of Master Cameron," the apothecary said politely. "How can I be of service?"
She explained her needs circumspectly, taking out what was left of her "special tea" and handing it over the counter to him. At once, his eyes brightened with interest. He examined the herbal mixture, stirring it with a fingertip, sniffing it, crushing some between his fingers and sniffing again, and finally tasting it.
"This will be no problem to replicate," he said, finally, looking up at her with his bright, black eyes, "Although it is not a recipe I have prescribed. Now, you said you also needed something for times of long and difficult research?"
She nodded, and clasped her hands together on the countertop. "I believe that there will be a great deal of work ahead of us in the next few months, and I fear I will be working long hours and sleeping little. If you can manage something, a tea perhaps, that will give me the ability to work these hours without falling asleep over my books, that is what I need. Something stronger than coffee, but not something that will keep me awake when I finally get a chance to go to sleep."
Master Pao pursed his lips and fingered his snowy moustache. "This could take a little time," he said, "and in addition—I should like to concoct an alternate recipe to the one you wished me to duplicate." He looked up at Snyder, and something unspoken passed between them.
"Miss Hawkins, if you will be so kind as to wait until I return before venturing further, I have an errand I must pursue," Snyder said unexpectedly. "If you will both excuse me?"
And before she could reply, he turned and left the shop.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Hawkins," the apothecary said apologetically, "But Mr. Snyder know's that if I am to fill your needs properly, I must ask you a few questions, some of which may be a trifle personal. That, no doubt, is why he left, to save you a blush at having a stranger party to your private matters."
She relaxed a little, for this was precisely the sort of questions that her father's friend had wished to ask her, and she was oddly certain that Snyder would never have left her alone with someone who might offend her, inadvertently or otherwise. "You are a doctor, of course," she replied, meaning to give him the accolade whether or not he "qualified" by Western standards. "I am sure you would ask me nothing without having a good reason for it."
"Ah—and not only am I a physician in the ways of my own people, I am also a physician trained in your western medicine," he said, with another of his warm smiles. "I have my diploma from Harvard Medical School, in point of fact, and I honor both the Hippocratic Oath and the vows of my own people regarding the sacred duties of the physician. Now you will find a stool there behind the door. If you will take a seat, we can begin."
She found the stool, a high, backless affair, precisely where he pointed, and set it before the counter. The questions he asked were not all that "personal," and she felt no embarrassment in answering them although she thought of herself as being unusually candid for a female, and poor Snyder probably would have been embarrassed to be present. Finally Master Pao seemed satisfied, and began making up packets of herbs, his hands flying among the various drawers and jars behind the counter. He never seemed to measure anything, and yet she was certain he was portioning each herb with absolute exactness. She watched him, rapt with fascination.
"Do I take it that you are assisting Master Cameron with his Magickal researches, Miss Hawkins?" he asked, as casually as if he were asking if she preferred the color blue over the color green.
She started, then stared at him, quite taken aback, and not certain how to reply. Master Pao looked up at her and caught her in that dumbfounded expression, and laughed softly.
"I am the Earthmaster here in the Land of the Golden Gate, Miss Hawkins," he said, very quietly. "We have been colleagues, Jason and I, since the day he arrived. We exchanged services; I reinforced his townhouse and mansion against the earthquake, and he made my shop fire-resistant. The imprint of Magick is upon you, though you yourself cannot yet see it."
"But—I have done nothing but read in his books!" she exclaimed involuntarily. "How could I—"
"You have read the instructions of Apprenticeship, and thus have taken the first true steps towards Apprenticeship," he chided gently, as if she had missed something terribly obvious. "Whether you progress further along the path or not, any Master who knows of your association with Jason will see that invisible mark. Some, an exceptionally sensitive Master of Air for instance, would even see it without that knowledge."
She bit her lip, not at all certain that she wanted such a "mark" upon her. This was not something she had bargained for when she began this! Would she always be so "marked," or would it gradually fade once she disassociated herself from Magick and its practitioners? Would this cause her even more difficulties?
No use complaining now, I suppose. I volunteered for this. Jason only wanted me to read and translate specific passages in specific books, and I suspect that if I had stuck to that, there would be no such "mark" upon me.
"I only mention this, because you should know certain things," the old man continued, with an expression of gentle concern. "Master Jason has collected some powerful enemies, as all who traffic in Magick eventually must." He chuckled, then, his concern softening. "Even so inoffensive a creature as myself can collect enemies, I fear. But if these enemies become aware of your association with Jason, they will seek to use you against him."
"How?" she asked, suspiciously. Now what is he at? Does he think to offer himself as my " protector"—for a cost? Tales of evil Chinese "white slavers" flashed through her mind for a moment.