Monkey (17 page)

“Yeah.”

“He's in for an unpleasant surprise. I better go see if I can catch him.”

“Wait a moment,” Malao said. “Have you seen Hok?”

Seh's narrow eyes widened. “Hok? No. Why?”

“He told me and Fu that he would meet us here. But that was eleven or twelve days ago. The plan was
for him to come here first, and then Fu and I would meet up with him later. Ying stole the dragon scrolls from Fu, but then we stole them back again.”

“You guys stole the scrolls back?”

“Sort of,” Malao said. “We got three. Ying still has one.”

Seh patted Malao's fuzzy head. “Nice work, little brother. Did you happen to see Long?”

“No. How about you?”

“I still haven't seen him, either,” Seh replied. “I'm sure he's fine, though. Listen, I want to catch up with Fu before he gets to the gates. Why don't you climb the tree like Fu suggested? We'll come back for you soon.”

“Why can't I come with you?” Malao asked.

“Having a lookout is a really good idea, Malao. It's an important job.”

“But what am I supposed to look out
for
? You already said you haven't seen anyone.”

“Please climb the tree, Malao.”

Malao pouted. “Fine. I'll be waiting up there. Alone.”

“Thanks,” Seh said. He spun around and headed straight into the Pagoda Forest without bothering to sneak around like Fu had done.

That's funny,
Malao thought.
Seh doesn't look too concerned about staying hidden. Why should I sit in a tree while he and Fu get to look around? I have something important I'd like to check out, too. And it shouldn't take long to find it. I could probably take a look and be back in the tree long before those two return.

After making sure Seh was out of sight, Malao raced around the Pagoda Forest scanning only the smallest monuments. There were nearly two hundred pagodas in the forest, but it didn't take him long to search just the small ones. Unfortunately, he didn't find what he was looking for—the pagoda dedicated to the boy who fell into the soup. Malao began to wonder if there was another group of pagodas somewhere nearby. Or perhaps the boy's memorial was placed off to the side, away from the grown-ups’? Malao scampered into the surrounding tree line.

About twenty paces in, Malao came to a small clearing bordered on three sides by a wall of thick vegetation. A heavy patchwork of vines hung from the treetops all the way to the ground. The snarled mess appeared to stretch well into the bowels of the forest.

From the edge of the tangle came a calm, smooth voice.

“Hello, little one.”

Malao jumped. He looked up and saw a slender bald man in an orange monk's robe lying sprawled along a large branch high off the ground. The monk appeared to be about thirty years old and seemed very comfortable up there. One arm and one leg dangled lazily in midair.

“Who are you?” Malao asked.

“Who am I?” the monk purred. “I believe the question is, who are you? And, maybe more importantly, who is the tall one in blue?”

“He's my brother,” Malao said. “We're monks from Cangzhen Temple.”

The monk's bushy black eyebrows raised up. “Cangzhen? You're so … young. What are you doing here?”

“Our temple was destroyed and we need help,” Malao said. “But it doesn't look like there's anyone left here who could help us. Well, except for you, I guess. What happened?”

“Two days ago Shaolin was attacked by soldiers,” the monk replied. “Soldiers with
qiangs.
Thousands of soldiers fell in the battle, along with every single warrior monk. I am all that is left.”

Malao felt his heart sink. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Why, the Emperor, of course. He's the only one with enough power to accomplish such a feat. He didn't do it alone, though. He had help.”

“What kind of help?” Malao asked. “Was Shaolin betrayed by a traitor?”

“A traitor?” the monk said. “I guess some people might call him that. He's been called worse.”

Malao sighed. “Our temple was betrayed by a traitor. My former brother, Ying, returned and snuck soldiers into our compound. Those soldiers had
qiangs,
too. More than one hundred monks died.”

“Really?” the monk said, scratching the side of his face. “That's a shame. It sounds like Cangzhen suffered the same fate as Shaolin. Except Shaolin's losses
were far greater. There were more than one thousand monks here and, like I said, I am all that is left. How many escaped the attack on Cangzhen?”

“Fi—”

“Don't answer that question,” Seh interrupted as he slipped into the clearing.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Malao asked. “Where's Fu?”

“He's back at the compound.” Seh stared up at the monk in the tree. “Who are you? Tell me your name. Now.”

The monk yawned and blinked several times. “Didn't they teach you any manners at Cangzhen?”

“Answer the question,” Seh said.

“Very well.” The monk sat up on the tree limb and leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs. “Most people call me Tsung. Welcome to Shaolin.”

Seh's eyes narrowed to slits. “Your name is Monk? What kind of name is that?”

Tsung cocked his head to one side and smirked. “Mandarin. Why?”

“I'm not in the mood for jokes,” Seh said. “Why would people call you Monk?”

“Because I am one,” Tsung said. “Do you find it surprising that you should find a man called Monk at a temple?”

“Don't play games with me,” Seh said. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don't know what you mean,” Tsung replied. “What were you expecting, a Cantonese animal
name, perhaps? I'm from Shaolin, young man. Only Cangzhen monks have Cantonese animal names.” He paused. “Well, only certain Cangzhen monks. Ones with a certain, shall we say,
history.
But you already know that, don't you? I'm sure Mong told you all about it.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Seh said.

Malao looked at Seh. “Mong? Is he talking about the bandit leader? How does he know about the bandits?”

“I don't know,” Seh replied.

Tsung grinned at Malao. “So, you've heard of Mong? Don't you find it a strange coincidence that he has a Cantonese animal name, just like some of your brothers from Cangzhen? What was the name you mentioned a moment ago? Was it ‘Fu’? Tell me, little one, what's your name?”

Seh looked at Malao. “Don't answer him. I don't trust him.”

“You don't trust me?” Tsung said. “But you are from Cangzhen and I am from Shaolin. We are practically brothers.”

Seh didn't respond.

“Would it change your mind if you knew that I saved your sister's life?” Tsung asked.

Malao's eyes widened. He stared closely at Tsung and noticed a wound on one side of Tsung's face. It looked like a large bird had tried to peck his eye out.

“Hok!” Malao whispered to Seh. “He means Hok!”

“I know,” Seh replied. “I see his face.”

Malao punched Seh in the arm. “But he said our
sister!”

“My ears work fine, too,” Seh said. “You know how pale and delicate Hok looks. He's just jumping to conclusions.”

Tsung grinned at Seh. “Am I?”

“Yes,” Seh said, looking sideways. “What happened to your face?”

Tsung rubbed the spot next to his eye. “Hok and I had a little … misunderstanding.”

“A
misunderstanding?”
Seh said. “Tell me what you know about Hok!”

“I know that
she
has a Cantonese name and fights like a crane,” Tsung said. “She arrived here on horseback before the attack, badly injured. She spent most of her time sleeping.” He paused. “She talks in her sleep, you know. I believe she mentioned you once or twice.”

Malao saw Seh's eyes narrow to slits.

“He's telling the truth, isn't he!” Malao said. He punched Seh again. “How long have you known that Hok is a girl?”

“I don't have time for gossip right now.”

“Gossip?!” Malao said. “I can't believe you! How come you never told me?”

“It was none of your business,” Seh replied.

“None of my business!” Malao said. “What else do you know that's ‘none of my business’?”

“That's enough!” Seh hissed. “We'll talk about this
later.” He glared up at Tsung. “You said you saved Hok. Where is she now?”

“I wish I knew,” Tsung replied. “Even in her condition, she fought bravely during the attack. She managed to escape, but she was in very, very bad shape. I've been looking for her ever since. Unfortunately, I'm afraid she may have crawled into a hollow tree somewhere and … well … just never crawled back out. When I say that I'm the only monk to have escaped the attack alive, I am obviously not counting her. I've given up hope of finding her among the living.”

“What?” Malao said.

Seh seemed unconvinced. “Why should we believe you?” he asked.

“Because I've given you no reason to doubt me,” Tsung said. He looked at Malao and purred, “You believe me, don't you, little one?”

Malao paused and scratched his head. Something about Tsung's tone of voice suddenly seemed different.

“I'm sorry I keep calling you ‘little one,’” Tsung said. “I hope that doesn't offend you. If you would simply tell me your name …”

Malao twitched. He realized Tsung was talking to him in the same tone the bandit Hung had, right before Hung turned on him.

Malao covered his mouth with one hand and whispered to Seh, “I think we should get out of here—”

Tsung sprang out of the tree and slammed into
Malao's chest. Malao found himself pinned to the ground with Tsung sitting on his midsection. Tsung grabbed the front of Malao's robe with one hand and formed a perfect leopard fist with the other. He brought his straightened fingers together and curled them down and in at the first two knuckles. Tsung cocked the fist back as Malao wiggled and squirmed.

Seh spun around and lashed out at Tsung's head with a powerful roundhouse kick. Malao's eyes widened when he saw Tsung duck the kick with plenty of time to spare.

Nobody is that fast,
Malao thought.

Seh followed up with a lightning-quick side-kick. Again, Tsung dodged it easily. Only this time he twisted to one side and Malao's robe was yanked open. The two dragon scrolls Malao carried fell to the ground, along with the decorated stick.

“What's this?” Tsung said.

Malao reached for one scroll while Seh dove for the other.

In a series of movements so fast Malao barely saw them, Tsung snatched up both scrolls and raced back up the tree. Malao was left with nothing but a handful of dirt. Seh held nothing but air.

Tsung plopped down on the same limb and slipped one of the scrolls into his robe. He whipped open the other scroll. “Very interesting,” he said calmly.

Malao rubbed his eyes and stared up at Tsung. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. As he picked up
his stick and returned it to the folds of his robe, Seh laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I think we're in trouble,” Seh whispered.

Malao nodded.

The sound of snapping branches caught Malao's attention and he turned to see Fu burst into the small clearing.

“What's going on here?” Fu demanded.

Tsung looked down at Fu. He shook his head and went back to reading the scroll.

Fu looked up at Tsung, then over at Seh. “Who is that guy?”

“He's a traitor,” Seh said, glaring up at Tsung. “He's responsible for the destruction of Shaolin.”

“What!” Fu roared. He looked up at Tsung. “Get down here, you coward! Fight like a— Hey! He's got one of the dragon scrolls!”

“Actually, he has both of mine,” Malao said.

Tsung looked up. “What was that? Both of
yours?”
Tsung stuffed the open scroll inside his robe and pulled his feet up onto the limb. He sat back on his haunches and turned toward Fu. “What secrets do
you
keep, big boy?”

Fu growled and tightened his sash. Malao saw every muscle in Fu's body begin to tense.

“Wait!” Malao said to Fu. “You don't understand. That guy—”

Tsung leaped out of the tree and hit Fu so fast, Fu didn't even have time to bring his hands up. A perfectly formed leopard fist struck Fu square in the left
temple and Fu crumpled to the ground. Malao and Seh raced to Fu's side, but by the time they made the five steps it took to get there, Tsung had already reached into Fu's robe, removed the third scroll, and raced back up the tree.

Malao and Seh stared at each other in disbelief. Together they looked up at Tsung.

Tsung grinned and placed the third dragon scroll inside his robe with the other two. He yawned. “So, which one of you two would like to die first?”

Malao shuffled his feet, speechless for the first time ever. He looked at Seh. Seh's eyes narrowed.

A voice suddenly rang out from high in the trees behind Malao.

“Well, well. If it isn't Spot, the Emperor's favorite pet. I see you're out of uniform again.”

Seh looked at Malao. “Is that who I think it is?”

Malao took a deep breath. “Uh-huh.”

M
alao whipped his head around and saw Ying perched high atop a dead oak.

Tsung looked over at Ying from atop the limb. “That's General Tsung to you, Lizard Boy. And I'll wear whatever I please, whenever I please. What are you doing here?”