Everything Under the Sky (44 page)

“What are we missing?” I asked desolately. “Why can't we figure out this blasted score?”

“Because it's not a score,
tai-tai,
it's a combination of weights,” came a timid voice from behind us.

Tai-tai?
Biao … ? Fernanda!

“Fernanda!” I shouted, leaping to my feet and hurrying over to the iron rungs to look up through the trapdoor. “Fernanda! Biao! What the devil are you doing here?”

I could just make out their miserable little heads peering over the edge and received nothing but silence in reply to my question.

“Biao! What did I tell you? Hmm? What did I tell you?”

“Not to follow you and Lao Jiang even if Young Mistress ordered me to.”

“And so what did you do? Hmm? What did you do?” I was furious. The very thought of their coming down those iron walkways made my blood boil.

“I followed Master Red Jade,” he replied humbly.

“What?” I shrieked.

“Don't get so angry, Auntie,” Fernanda said in a cavalier, condescending tone. “You ordered him not to follow you or Lao Jiang, and he obeyed. He followed Master Red Jade.”

“And what about you, Miss Impertinent? I absolutely forbade you to move from there.”

“No, Auntie. You ordered me to stay with Biao. You literally said, ‘If you don't stay with Biao, I will put you in the strictest Catholic boarding school there is.’ I only did what you told me to. I stayed with him every step of the way, I promise.”

For the love of God! What was wrong with those two? Weren't they aware of the danger? Didn't they know what it meant to obey? Now that they were here, I couldn't order them to go back up. Besides, how had they managed to come down those bridges? How had they known what path to follow?

“We watched you come down,” my niece explained, “and Biao drew the route in your sketchbook.”

“Give me my sketchbook and pencils right this instant, Biao!”

The boy disappeared from view and reappeared feetfirst, slowly descending rung after rung. When he reached my side, I held out an imperious hand, and, frightened, he passed me my things. I took the sketchbook and opened it, finding his drawing. The route was correct, it was drawn well, and he had used arrows to indicate the change in direction of energy on the even levels. The two were clever indeed, but above all they were disobedient, and the more disobedient was my niece, the ringleader. It was no time to discuss what they'd done or think of a magisterial, unforgettable punishment, but that time would come, sooner or later that time would come, and Fernanda Olaso Aranda would remember her aunt for the rest of her life.

Enraged, I turned to put my things in my bag, leaving them stock- still with heads hung.

“Are you through being angry, Elvira?” Lao Jiang asked unpleasantly. That was all I needed.

“Do you have a problem with the way I treat my niece and my servant?”

“No. I couldn't care less. I simply want Biao to explain what he said about a combination of weights.”

I had forgotten that. Fury had erased it from my mind. The boy walked toward the Bian Zhong very slowly (it must have been the burden of guilt he carried with him), then muttered something we could barely hear.

“Speak up!” Lao Jiang ordered the boy. What the devil was wrong with that man? He was unbearable.

“I asked if someone could help me pick up the big bell with the character for Water,” Biao said more audibly.

The antiquarian hurried over, and between the two of them they lifted it a little and pulled it off. There was the squeaking of a spring, and the hook it had been hanging on rose up about an inch on the bar. They carefully set the bell on the floor.

“What now?” Lao Jiang asked.

“We have to remove that bell,” the boy said, pointing to the medium-size Bian Zhong in the middle of the bottom row, the sixth one in from either side. Lao Jiang picked it up with a certain amount of effort and set it on the floor as well. “Now we've got to put the big one where that medium one was,” Biao said, bending to help the antiquarian with the huge Bian Zhong containing the ideogram for Water. The squeaking of springs and the minor shifting of the hooks up or down when they were empty or full revealed that something was happening inside that frame, and therefore Biao was on the right track. With Master Red's help, they continued removing and replacing bells. After a while you could start to see the puzzle Biao had in mind. Every so often there was a distant metallic grumbling, like a bolt being pulled back. The men were sweating from the effort. Fernanda and I helped with the smallest bronze bells, the ones the size of water glasses, although they weren't so light either. Biao had a hard time keeping up with telling us which bells to remove and where to place others.

Finally just one very small bell with the Water element was left to be placed in the bottom left-hand corner of the frame and was in my hands, my unbelievably dirty hands. All the Bian Zhong went from smallest to largest, left to right. The enormous bell with the character for Water that we'd set in the middle of the lowest bar was now surrounded by the five containing the element Metal, the little house, because Metal was powerful nourishment for Water. The five Metal bells were surrounded in turn by the nine for Earth, which nourished Metal, which in turn nourished Water. The nine Earth bells were surrounded by the thirteen for Fire, the thirteen for Fire by the seventeen for Wood, and, ultimately, these by the twenty- one for Water (the last one still in my hands). It was a perfect cycle, a masterful arrangement of strength and energy. If Biao was right, Shi Huang Ti's master geomancers had made the emperor's reigning element the start and end of that combination, allowing the creative cycle of the Five Elements to reinforce Water with all their power, and it in turn would encompass them all.

There was a sense of anticipation in the air as I walked over to the last empty hook on the frame. Feeling like a prima donna before her audience, I placed the bell with a grandiose, theatrical gesture that made the children and Master Red Jade laugh. Lao Jiang was so desperate for it to work that he was indifferent to my antics.

There was a metallic click, the squeaking of springs, stone grinding on stone, and then a creak. The wall of Bian Zhong slowly slid back, causing the sixty- six bells to vibrate softly. It came to a dead stop after several feet. Large holes some twelve to fifteen inches apart were visible on the ends of both perpendicular walls and the parts of the floor and ceiling where that movable wall had once fit. The gap to walk through on either side was, as usual, in total darkness.

“Tell me, Biao,” I heard Master Red whisper behind me, “how did you know it was the arrangement and weight of the bells, and not a musical score?”

“For two reasons,” the boy replied quietly. “First, I thought it seemed strange that the architect Sai Wu didn't ever mention music in the
jiance
when he told his son that the chamber with the Bian Zhong was related to the Five Elements. After all, he was talking about bells. Second, you'd already struck them in every possible way without any results. It couldn't be a song. The only sure thing was that it had something to do with the Five Elements, with chi energy. Just then, Young Mistress Fernandina made a comment about how much that enormous musical instrument must weigh, how difficult it would be to move it to see if there were some sort of door behind. The idea suddenly came to me when I heard you talking about the number of bells and the creative cycle of the Five Elements. Plus, it was only logical to assume that there was some sort of hidden mechanism that would open the door Young Mistress was talking about, but the room was completely empty except for the Bian Zhong. The bells were hanging on hooks, so it was possible to move them. Also, if Water was the main element and there was one Water bell too many or, as you said, it was the first in the series, then I thought it had to be the biggest one and placed in its cardinal point, north. If you picture a Chinese map on top of the Bian Zhong, south is at the top, east and west on the sides, and north at the bottom. The big bell needed to go in the middle of the bottom row. That and what you said about the number of bells for each Element and the order of the creative cycle was what gave me the idea, Master Red Jade.”

I was dumbfounded. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. Biao was extraordinarily intelligent and had a marvelous capacity for analysis and deduction. It was simply unthinkable the boy could go back to Father Castrillo's orphanage to wind up becoming a carpenter, a shoemaker, or a tailor. He needed to study, take advantage of such exceptional qualities, to carve out a good future for himself. I suddenly had a magnificent idea: Why didn't Lao Jiang adopt him? The antiquarian didn't have children to inherit his business or carry out funeral rites in his honor when he died. It was a very delicate matter, and given how irritable he'd been lately, it was best not to say anything for the time being. As soon as we were out of the mausoleum with our pockets full of money, I'd speak with him to see if he thought it was as good an idea. Biao was not going back to the orphanage.

After picking up our bags, we prepared to cross through the opening made by the wall of Bian Zhong. Lao Jiang took out his lighter again and lit the torch, placing himself at the head of the line. I followed him, shielding my silly niece and Biao, who was walking next to Master Red Jade. I didn't know what we might find behind that wall, even though we hadn't had many unpleasant surprises so far. However, my fears immediately came true: The antiquarian exclaimed and jumped back, nearly falling into me. I instinctively stepped back as fast as I could, bumping into Fernanda, who in turn stumbled back into Biao and he into Master Red.

“What is it?” I asked.

Lao Jiang had miraculously kept his balance, and when he turned to look at us, I saw something black moving on the hem of his tunic, scurrying up between the pleats. Cockroaches? I was utterly disgusted.

“Beetles,” Master Red said.

“And more,” Lao Jiang added, brushing off his clothes. Little black things with legs fell onto the floor and moved. “I didn't get a good look The walls and floor are covered in insects. There are thousands of them, millions: beetles, ants, cockroaches. You can't even see the trapdoor.”

My niece let out a terrified shriek.

“Do they bite?” she asked, petrified, her hand over her mouth.

“I don't know. I don't think so,” Lao Jiang replied, turning back toward the room and reaching in with his torch to light up the interior. I couldn't even think about leaning in to take a look. What's more, I couldn't go in there if it were the last place on earth.

“Come on, then,” Biao said, walking over to Lao Jiang.

The three men peered in.

“It's infested!” Master Red exclaimed. “The light's making them move. Look at them fly and fall off the ceiling!”

“We'll never find the trapdoor,” the boy agreed, brushing bugs off the arms of his jacket. Lao Jiang and Master Red ran their hands over their faces.

“I'll go look for it and call you once I've found it,” Lao Jiang said.

“I'm sorry, Lao Jiang, but I can't go in there,” I said.

“Stay here, then. Do whatever you like,” he snarled, disappearing behind the wall. I was astonished.

“What are we going to do, Auntie?” my niece asked, looking at me anxiously.

I was tempted to give her an answer like the one the antiquarian had just given me (I was still furious that she'd disobeyed me), but I couldn't do it. Fear united us; I knew just how she felt. We would have to overcome it. I didn't want my niece to inherit my neuroses.

“We'll pluck up our courage and get through it, Fernanda.”

“What are you saying?” she asked, horrified.

“Do you want the two of us to stay here like silly fools while they carry on to the treasure?”

“But there are millions of bugs!” she howled.

“So? We'll make it through. We'll close our eyes. We'll tell Biao to lead us by the hand as fast as he can. All right?”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she agreed. I was also terrified, and my skin crawled at the very thought of going into that room, but I had to teach my niece a lesson in bravery. I also had to prove to myself that my recovery was real, that I could face my fears.

Biao offered to lead us before we even had to ask. There was hardly time to prepare ourselves: Lao Jiang's shout exploded like a bomb in our heads. It was best not to think twice. Biao took my hand, I took my niece's, and we entered that mysterious hall rife with insects. I was immediately covered in little living things that landed on and crept all over me. I nearly died of repulsion and panic but couldn't let go of the children to brush myself off. I had to keep a firm grip on my nerves and especially on Fernanda's hand, which tried several times to wriggle out of mine to get rid of those horrible creatures. I didn't open my eyes until Biao told me the trapdoor was at my feet. That's when I looked and wished I hadn't: Floor, ceiling, walls—everything was black and moving; thousands of winged insects flew through the air. I pushed Fernanda to go down first and, as she did, noticed Lao Jiang. He stood motionless, holding the torch to light our way, and was covered from head to toe in the same layer of bugs that obliterated the walls. Biao looked similar, and though I didn't want to acknowledge it, I must have, too.

“Hurry, Fernanda!” I yelled as I started through the trapdoor. It was a miracle we didn't kill ourselves. Still covered in little living things, my niece and I swatted them off as we climbed down. I soon heard the dry thud of the hatch as it closed above our heads, and a shower of cockroaches and beetles rained down, grazing my hands and face. Lao Jiang had turned off the bamboo torch so we couldn't see a thing. It was better that way, to be honest. I had no desire to see the baggage I was carrying.

It wasn't very far to the bottom—thirty feet, perhaps. We were soon on the ground, and I heard Fernanda stomping, squashing everything under her feet, every footfall accompanied by crackles and crunches. Lao Jiang lit the torch as soon as he reached the bottom. We were overrun, they were everywhere: in our hair, on our faces and clothing, it was absolutely horrific. My niece and I brushed one another off as the men took care of themselves. The floor was littered with crushed bodies floating in a thick, yellowish puddle. Finally we were able to stop scratching and hitting ourselves as if we'd gone insane. We walked a few steps away from that disgusting stain, turning our backs so we wouldn't have to look at it.