BAF 64 - Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat, page 20
part #64 of Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series
“Far from that being the case, my occupation is wholly menial in its ignoble outlook, nor does the future stretch beyond to-morrow’s toil,” replied Kin freely. “If, therefore, your agreeable condescension sprang from a mistaken cause, do not hesitate to continue our discourse in your ordinary voice.”
“On the contrary,” replied the other affably, “I would willingly learn somewhat more of your condition. As you unsuspectingly approached this spot, I cast the outline of your destiny according to the various signs you bear. Although I possess certain supernatural powers, I am not really proficient in this branch of geomancy, and my only thought was to obtain a trifling practice, but to my surprise I found that in some unaccountable way the lines of our future destinies converge.”
“Even a snail can fly through space if it attaches itself to a dragon’s tail,” replied the unpretentious Kin, and thus encouraged he willingly laid bare the mediocre details of his threadbare life. When he had finished, the stranger continued to regard him narrowly.
“A noticeable career of one kind or another certainly awaits you, although my meretricious skill, is unfortunately not profound enough to indicate its nature,” he remarked benignantly. “Rest satisfied, however, that henceforth, I shall certainly be exerting my unnatural powers in your direction.”
“If the destiny is already assured, might it not more prudently be left wholly to the more experienced Forces?” suggested Kin cautiously. “You have spoken of your efforts in terms which indicate that the outcome of their use may prove somewhat disconcerting to the one on whose behalf they are invoked.”
“Do not nourish any misgiving on that account,” replied the philosopher with a reassuring smile. “Certain things lie beyond my admitted power, it is true, but I could, without inconvenience, change you into an edible toad or cause a thick growth of fur to cover you from head to foot by the exercise of a single magic word. If you doubt this—”
“By no means!” exclaimed Kin hastily. “Your authoritative word puts me entirely at my ease. Yet, as the acrimonious Chan Chun will by this time have discovered an empty stool, I will, without further attrition of your precious moments, walk backward from, your lordly presence.”
“You have been honourably welcome to my feeble entertainment, which henceforth you can associate with the obscure name of Cheung,” courteously replied the one who thus described himself. “In the meanwhile, frequent indications of my protecting hand will disclose themselves from time to time to preserve intact the silken thread of your remembrance.”
“If the suggestion should not be deemed too concise, a favourable occasion will present itself when the one upon whose bounty I depend stands at the gate to welcome my return.”
“The occasion is befitting,” replied Cheung graciously, “and a timely intervention shall arise. Furthermore, in order to guide you through the forest by an unknown path—one more suited to your present haste—Fa Ming, the sole remaining blossom of my attenuated tree, shall, in a suitable guise, precede you on your way.”
With these auspicious words, the venerable personage raised his necromantic staff and waved it toward the maiden who was still engrossed in the arrangement of her glossy hair before a shield of burnished copper. Immediately she disappeared, and in her place there stood a sleek white bird intent on preening its resplendent plumage. When Cheung again made a magic sign, however, no further manisfestation took place, the shapely creature remaining immersed in a gratified contemplation of its own attractions. A faint line of annoyance corroded the austere smoothness of the philosopher’s brow.
“It is one thing to turn ordinary persons into the semblance of apparitions of a different part, but it is quite another to induce them to preserve the unities in their new habit,” he remarked, with engaging frankness, toward Kin’s ear. Indeed, the graceful being continued to regard itself approvingly from one angle after another, despite the formidable magic projected against it by the persistent waving of Cheung’s all-powerful staff, nor was it until, in an access of engendered bitterness, the painstaking wizard cast the wand violently in its direction that the one whom he had referred to as both the Hand and the Foot of his declining years began to bend her acquiescence toward his wishes. Thenceforward, however, her amiable compliance did not falter, and she hovered continuously before the grateful Kin, guiding him along a secret track so that presently he came clear of the forest at a point much nearer to Tai-chow than the most skilful woodfarer might have found possible.
It was not long before Kin encountered what might reasonably be accepted as a token of Cheung’s sustaining care. In the few hours that spanned his absence from its walls a great caravan of merchants had reached the city from the Outer Lands and filling the narrow Ways with laden beasts and hurrying slaves were even then vying with each other to extol the richness of their wares and to announce at what resort their commerce should be sought. Some, more zealous than their felloes, did not halt to shake out their sandals and partake of tea, but pressed forward without pause to offer the enticement of an early choice to those whose custom they esteemed. Thus it befel that, at the gate before the Conscientious Elephant, a laden camel stood while a sombre attendant, who restrained its impatience by means of a cord passed through its nose, from time to time spoke of his master in terms of unfavourable comparison with the Keeper of the Pit.
“Prosperity attend your gracious footsteps,” remarked Kin in polite greeting (and also because he wished to learn their purpose there) as he raised the latch. “The Street called Fragrant is honoured by your restful shadow.”
“It would not be, had not a misbegotten planet of the unluckier sort been in the ascendant at the moment of this person’s ill-timed birth,” replied the attendant darkly. “Is it not enough to have toiled across a self-opinionated desert, leading this perverse and retaliatory daughter of two she-devils by an utterly deficient cord, without being compelled to wait interminable gong-strokes in a parched and plague-infected byway of Tai-chow while the rest-house of the Garden of Musical Virtues spreads its moist allurement but a short span farther to the east?”
“Your well-expressed offence causes the strings of my compassion to vibrate in harmony,” replied Kin with genial sympathy. “Who is he who has thus misused your forbearance, and what is the nature of his errand here?”
“Pun Kwan is his repulsive name—may the stomach of a Mongolian crow prove to be his tomb! From the Outer
Land of Zam are we come with a varied commerce of the finer sort, so that, forestalling the less grasping of our band, he now seeks to make a traffic of six horns of ivory to the one within.”
“My ineffectual voice shall be raised on your behalf,” said Kin, as he passed on. “Do not despair: the fiercest thunderstorm is composed of single drops.” With this amiable pledge, however, he merely sought to end the conversation in a manner congenial to the other’s feelings, for his own hopes did not extend beyond entering unperceived. In this (aided, doubtless, by the exercise of Cheung’s secret magic) he was successful; the upraised voices of two, each striving to outlast the other, revealed that the hazard of the bargain was still in progress in a further room, and Kin reached his bench unchallenged. Then, as if a controlling influence had been lifted when this effect was gained, Pun Kwan and Chan Chun began slowly to approach, the former person endeavouring to create the illusion that he was hastening away, without in reality increasing his distance from the other, while the latter one was concerned in an attempt to present an attitude of unbending no-concern, while actuated by a fixed determination not to allow Pun Kwan to pass beyond recall. Thus they reached Kin’s presence, where they paused, the sight of the outer door filling them both with apprehension.
“It were better to have remained throughout eternity in the remote desert of E-ta, leaving these six majestic tusks to form an imperishable monument above our bones, rather than suffer the corroding shame of agreeing to accept the obscene inadequacy of taels which you hold out,” declared Pun Kwan with passionate sincerity. “Soften the rebellious wax within your ears, O obstinate Chan Chun! and listen to the insistent cries of those who call me hence with offers of a sack of rubies for six such matchless towers of ivory.”
“If,” replied Chan Chun, with equal stubbornness, “I should indeed, in a moment of acute derangement, assent to your rapacious demand of a mountain of pure silver for each of these decaying fangs, the humiliated ghosts of an unbroken line of carving ancestors would descend to earth to paralyze their degenerate son’s ignoble hand. Furthermore, the time for bargaining has passed, thou mercenary Pun Kwan! For pressing forward in the Ways behold a company of righteous merchants, each proffering a more attractive choice for less than half the price.”
Before Pun Kwan could make a suitable reply, there came from beyond the walls the sound of one who raised his voice at dusk. It was the evening chant of the cameleer, who, after the manner of his tribe, had begun to recite his innermost thoughts, in order to purify his mind before he slept. After listening to the various analogies in which his name was blended, Pun Kwan’s expression gradually took upon itself a less austere cast.
“It is not unaptly written, ‘When the shield is bent the sword is also blunted,’ and neither person can reproach the other with a lack of resolution,” he remarked pacifically. “Added to this, we are but men of natural instincts and must shortly seek repose.”
“Say on,” replied Chan Chun, as the other waited for his acquiescence. “Provided that a mutual tolerance is involved, this one will not oppose you with a brazen throat.”
“Let the price be thus and thus, so that my unattractive face shall suffer no compression, while your enlarged munificence will be extolled. Then, to the balance of my offer will I yet add another tusk, freely and devoid of charge. By this, each shall seem to have profited at the other’s expense though neither is the loser.”
“Perchance,” assented Chan Chun doubtfully. “But touching that same added tusk-?”
“Admittedly the six cannot be matched, did one comb the forests of the land of Zam and pass all matter through a potter’s sieve. Seen side by side with these, any other tusk deceives the eye and takes upon itself an unmerited imperfection. Is it not truly said that what is gold by night—”
“That which needs so much warming up may as well be eaten cold,” observed Chan Chun in a flat-edged voice. “Behold the scales and an amplitude of silver bar. Let the promised tusk appear.”
Thus challenged, Pun Kwan withdrew and presently returned with an object which he bore and set before Chan Chun. For an elaborate moment, the ivory carver was too astonished even to become outwardly amused (a poise it had been his previous intention to assume) for the tusk was of an ill-shapen kind never before seen by him or any other of the craft. It was of stunted form, gnarly and unattractive to the eye, and riven by some mishap while yet in growth, so that it branched to half its length.
“What infirmity contorts your worthy sight and deflects your natural vision from its normal line, O scrupulous Pun Kwan?” said Chan Chun indulgently. “This is not a tusk of ivory at all, but doubtless the horn of some unseemly buffalo, or of one of the fabled monsters of the barbarian Outer-World. This should be offered to those who fashion drinking cups from commonplace bone, who dwell about the Leafy Path, beyond the Water Gate.”
“Peace, brother,” said Pun Kwan approvingly. “To revile my wares is in the legitimate way of fruitful bargaining, but to treat them as a jest assails the inner fibre of one’s self-esteem. Is there not justice in the adage, ’Eat in the dark the bargain that you purchased in the dusk?’ The tusk is as it is.”
Alas, it is truly said, “If two agree not to strive about the price, before the parcel is made up they will fall out upon the colour of the string,” and assuredly Pun Kwan and Chan Chun would very soon have been involved as keenly as before had it not been for an unexpected happening. Ever concerned about the smallest details of his art, Kin had drawn near to mark the progress of the conflict and to lend a stalwart voice to his master’s cause if Chan Chun’s own throat should fail him. Judge, then, the measure of his wonder when in the seventh tusk he at once recognized the essential outline of the fair white bird as it hung poised above the path before him! Misshapen as the ivory seemed for the general purpose of the carver’s art, it was as though it had been roughly cast for this one service, and Kin could no longer doubt the versatile grasp of Cheung’s fostering hand.
“A word in your far-seeing ear, instructor,” he said, drawing Chan Chun aside. “If the six are worthy of your inspired use, do not maintain an upper lip rigid beyond release. This person has long sought to acquire a block sufficiently ill-formed to conceal his presumptuous lack of skill. This now offers, and in return for a tusk of admittedly uncouth proportions he will bind himself to serve your commanding voice for four hand-counts of further moons and ask no settled wage.”
“It suffices,” replied Chan Chun readily, seeing a clear advantage to himself. “Yet,” he continued, with a breath of slow-witted doubt, “wherein, at so formidable an obligation, can this profit you whose reputation does not reach any higher than the knee of a sitting duck?”
’The loftiest mountain rises gradually at first,” replied Kin evasively. Then, on the excuse that the auspices of Chan Chun’s purchase required the propitiatory discharge of a string of crackers, he withdrew, to venerate his ancestors anew.
As the days went on, it grew increasingly plain to Kin that he was indeed under the care of very potent Forces while the likelihood of Cheung’s benevolent interference from time to time could not be ignored. Despite the unworthy nature of the scanty tools he used and the meagre insufficiency of light remaining when Chan Chun’s inexorable commands had been obeyed, the formless block of ivory gradually took upon itself the shining presentment of a living bird. When any doubt assailed Kin’s mind as to the correct portrayal of a detail, an unseen power would respectfully but firmly direct his hand, and on one occasion when, with somewhat narrow-minded obstinacy, he had sought to assert himself by making an inaccurate stroke too suddenly to be restrained, the detached fragment was imperceptibly restored while he slept.
It was at this period of its history that Tai-chow reached the cloudy eminence which marked the pinnacle of attainment among the illustrious arts. The provincial governor, an official of such exalted rank that it entitled him to wear a hat with a yellow feather even when asleep, returned after a long absence to gladden the city with his presence. To indicate the general satisfaction and at the same time allow the prevailing excess of joy to evaporate in a natural and, if it might be, painless manner, mutual feasts were given at which those most proficient in the sonorous use of words were encouraged to express themselves at various lengths upon whatever subject most concerned their minds. When by these humane means the city had been reduced to a normal state of lethargy, the Mandarin Tseng Hung (the one referred to) testified his enduring interest in the welfare of the company of craftsmen by a proclamation and a printed sheet displayed on every wall.
“He is a peacock among partridges, the one who rules our laws, and will doubtless become the founder of a promiscuous line of kings,” exclaimed Chan Chun vainglorious-ly, on his return from the market-place, where he had listened to the reading of the edict. “Has any rumour of the honour now foreshadowed to the tree of Chan already reached my usually deficient home?”
“None save a resolute collector of the bygone water dues has crossed your polished step,” replied the chief one of his inner room. “Is then your fame proclaimed again, thrice fortunate Chan Chun?”
“Not in so many explicit words,” admitted the unbecoming Chun, “but the intention cannot be obscured. Thus is the matter set forth at ample length: On a certain agreed day, any craftsman who dwells about Tai-chow, or even within the shadow of its outer wall, be he worker in the finer or the cruder sorts of merchandise, may send the most engaging product of his hand to the Palace of the Lustres, to be there beheld of all. Chief among these will come the enlightened Mandarin Tseng Hung himself, wearing his fullest robe of ceremonial state. After glancing perfunctorily at the less attractive objects ranged about the Hall he will stop with an expression of gratified admiration before the one bearing the sign of Chan Chun and the seal of the Reverential Company of Carvers in the Hard. Then, to an accompaniment of laudatory trumpets, he will announce this to be worthy of the chief reward—and doubtless soon after that retire, leaving the disposal of inferior honours to integritous but needy Younger Brethren of his suite.”
“Haply,” remarked a shrewd maiden who was present, one who did not venerate Chan Chun, “yet the Wisdom has declared: ‘It is easier to amass a fortune in a dream than to secure ten cash by the light of day.’ By what inducement do you hope to sway the strict Tseng Hung, thou Conscientious Elephant?”
“The necessity does not arise,” coldly replied Chan Chun. “The craft of carving ivory being the most esteemed of all, and this superlative person the acclaimed leader of that band, it inevitably results that whatever he puts forth must be judged to transcend the rest. To decide otherwise would be to challenge the Essential Principles of stability and order.” In an obscure corner of the room, Kin bent his energies upon a menial task.
“You have spoken without limit of those who may compete, esteemed,” he said diffidently. “Is it then permitted even to the unassuming and ill-clad to incur this presumption?”
“Save only malefactors, slaves, barbers, official guardians of the streets, and play-actors—who by an all-wise justice are debarred from holding any form of honour—even the outcast leper in the Way may urge his claim.” Chan Chun restrained his voice to an unusual mildness, in order thereby to reprove the maiden who had challenged his pretension. “If,” he continued benevolently, “it is your not unworthy purpose to strive for some slight distinction within the bounds set apart for the youthful and inept, any discarded trifle from my own misguided hand is freely at your call.”
