Prophecy Three

  Two soaring dragons know no regrets,

  With filial piety as vanguard.

  Both deaf dragons were not forewarned,

  They ascend the white wolf’s lair.

  By early morning, every household in the city of He Ku displayed articles of mourning. A grand funeral had been arranged for the Old Grandmother, to be held in three days at the designated burial sites of Redwood Cliff. Word had spread that the recovery of the jade could spark renewed violence in the Martial Society. Fear permeated every household.

  Li Kung and Sochai arrived at the Blue Lantern Inn the night before, as expected, and found Pun already asleep in one of the two rooms she rented. By late morning, all three were well rested and set for travel.

  The day was bright and warmer than usual. Sochai felt strong and trotted through the forest, always a few steps in front of his new friends.

  “Tell me about your mentors,” Sochai said.

  “Three old men, gone completely mad,” Pun piped in.

  “Don’t say that,” Li Kung retorted. “They’re not mad. In the South, they’re known as the Three Saints of Yunnan.”

  “But in the North,” Pun said. “They’re known as the Three Lunatics of Yunnan.”

  “My mentors are hermits,” Li Kung said. “People don’t understand them.”

  “Hermits?”

  “They live in seclusion, away from politics and excess. They live simply.”

  Sochai stared at the ground. The nomads of the Mongolian steppe also lived simply and separate from the world. Perhaps Li Kung was describing a deeper form of seclusion, like the kind experienced by his grandfather. Why would anyone choose to live in such hardship and loneliness?

  “We’re here,” Li Kung said. A large house, void of decorations or embellishments, stood before them. “This is where we live.”

  There was a subtle sound. Out of the corner of his eye, Sochai saw the snow on the ground fly up in flurries, and he slid back, drawing his saber with lightning speed and slashing out. The figure of a man shimmered past him and stood safely at a distance. It was a wrinkled old man, bald, his filthy beard completely white, his beady little eyes curved with joy. He had a long face like a horse’s, the size of his nostrils competing with his gaping mouth, his chin enormous.

  “You’re good,” the old man said. “But how would you know which direction I’m coming from if you’re blinded by snow?” He swept the ground and sent a towering wall of snow into Sochai face. Sochai closed his eyes, stood completely motionless, listening for movement. In a moment, the snow cleared from the air and Sochai saw the old man standing far away again.

  “Shifu Three,” Li Kung said. “Stop! This is my friend.”

  The old man jumped up and down, in a burst of wild laughter, and clapped his hands with joy. “Excellent! Just excellent! I haven’t seen anyone this good in almost thirty years! He didn’t even move! Let’s try something new. Now, what if your opponent is always changing his distance? Then what are you going to do?”

  Li Kung tried to step between them. “He’s been poisoned!”

  By then, Pun was giggling so hard she held her stomach and doubled over. “I bet. I bet you’ve never seen a lunatic...”

  “A blue-tinted face!” The voice was powerful, eager. Another old man appeared and took Sochai’s hand. He was even uglier than the first old man, with a short, round face and bulging, bright eyes. His beard was equally filthy, his long hair thinly scattered. “Poison!” he said. He placed three fingers on Sochai’s wrist. “How lucky you are. There’s only a minuscule amount in your blood. For such powerful stuff, you should have died fifty times.”

  The first old man slapped the other’s hand. “He’s my guest, Old Two. He came all the way from Mongolia to challenge me, so don’t you interfere!”

  Sochai turned to Old Two. “What did you say about my poison? Is there a cure?”

  Old Two laughed. “You see, Old Three, he’s more interested in my medicine. He’s not here to fight. Go away!”

  “No, that’s not true. The Mongolian wants to fight.”

  Old Two reached out and slapped Old Three, who covered his bony cheek in shock. “How dare you slap me?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “I’m the older brother! I do what I want! This Mongolian is coming with me!” He turned to Sochai. “Come. Come this way. I can see you’re interested in poison. I have eighty-one different types of poison in the back room. Let me show you.”

  “His condition is grave,” Li Kung said, running up from behind. “The poison’s already in his liver.”

  “Shut up, boy. Of course it can wait. He’s only vomiting blood. You can start worrying when the blood is coming out of his nose.” He tugged on Sochai’s wrist again. “Come, let me show you my poison collection. I have scorpions, snakes, venomous toads, some very toxic peacock’s gall—”

  “When I bleed from my nose?” Sochai asked. “Is that when it is too late?”

  “No, when blood gushes out of your ears, it’ll be too late. Come.”

  Li Kung stepped in again. “I’ve already tried to treat him with—”

  “I know what you’ve tried,” the old man retorted. “I taught you.”

  “You couldn’t teach him anything better!” Old Three shouted from behind.

  “What do you mean?”

  Old Three threw his head back, pointed a crooked finger at his brother, and laughed. “He couldn’t defeat a cockroach in battle. He studies your foolish medicine. Now, ask him how he would save himself with your skill when an army of five hundred come charging down that hill over there?”

  “Don’t worry, they’re completely insane,” Pun whispered into Sochai’s ear.

  “Then go teach that boy how to fight!” Old Two shouted. He turned to Sochai.

  Old Three slipped in front of them like lightning, crossed his arms, lifted his massive chin, and said, “You don’t expect my weakling brother to walk past me like I don’t exist.”

  “Listen, old fool,” Old Two said, increasingly impatient. “How can I pretend you don’t exist? You’re louder than the rooster outside my window every morning.”

  “I’m not old! You say that one more time and I’ll pound your head like a clove of garlic.”

  Old Two broke into laughter. “Talk! All talk! You don’t dare hit me! Old One will have your neck if you touch me! I’m your older brother. You don’t dare.”

  Li Kung pulled on Sochai’s sleeve. “Shifu Two is a great doctor,” he whispered. “I’m sure he’ll be able to cure you. Let’s wait for him inside.”

  “You know, Old Two. You’re almost ninety years old. How much longer do you think you’ll live? What good is this medicine going to do for you then?”

  “You’re going to be ninety soon yourself. You still think you can fight like a young man? Even if you beat every warrior in the world, how much longer do you think you’ll live?”

  Pun scrambled after Li Kung and Sochai, both backing into the house. They closed the door behind them, but could still hear the voices of the two old men. “They’ll stop in a little while and they’ll be brothers again,” Pun said.

  The back room was bright, with cloth sacks stacked to the ceiling, porcelain jars and wooden boxes scattered everywhere—on old shelves, on the floor.

  “These are my mentor’s herbs. He gathered most of them himself.”

  “None of the jars are labeled,” Sochai said. “How does he know which one is which?”

  “Somehow he does,” Li Kung said. “I even remember most of them. And once the jar is opened, he recognizes them.”

  The door swung open and Old Two hopped in, a grin on his face. “Old Three backed off and apologized,” he whispered. He held a finger to his lips to indicate silence. “Don’t tell him I told you he apologized or he’ll start shouting again.” He winked mischievously to a giggling Pun, then ran over and took Sochai’s hand. “Come. Let me examine your pulse again.”

  Sochai looked back at Li Kung, glanced at Pun’s concerned face and hesitated. This was it. He traveled all the way from the other side of the desert in search for an answer with little time left. Old Two’s warm fingers pressed against his pulse, and he closed his eyes.

  The silence was unbearable. To Sochai, each breath felt like a subdued scream, an exaggerated moment of torment. Old Two’s fingers remained on Sochai’s wrist, for what seemed like forever.

  “This is not going to work,” he finally said with a smile. “Nothing is going to work. You’re going to die.”

  “Is there nothing you can do?” Li Kung asked.

  “I can. I can ask Old Three to kill him, and that’ll end the pain early. Death is not that bad if it’s painless, you know.”

  The Mongolian’s eyes flashed fire. Li Kung placed a shaking hand on his shoulder. “We’ll try something, Sochai. There has to be another way.”

  Old Two opened his box of herbs, pulled out a large needle, and reached for Sochai’s hand. “You don’t need this blood, right? It’s full of poison anyway. Might as well give me some.”

  Sochai broke from his trance. “What was that?”

  “I’m saying, you’re going to die anyway. Why not give me some of your blood. I can use it to poison a couple of rabbits, and I can try some new prescriptions on them. You don’t need so much blood.”

  Sochai looked at the old man, at the red face, the white hair, the wide grin. “Blood?” he whispered. “You want blood?”

  “That’s right. I’ve tested with bear’s blood and chicken blood. But nothing like yours. Yours is toxic. I really should try with yours.”

  Sochai trembled, shook until his clenched fist rocked against the table. “Blood,” he said in a cold, quiet whisper. “Warriors have traveled hundreds of miles and fought armies to seek my blood. But none of them were good enough. And you want it so easily?” His voice tightened, the heat swelling in his chest. He shook, his voice barely audible. “You want my blood? Call your brother to come and fight for it!”

  “You need to rest,” Li Kung said, trying to lift him. “Here, take one of the pills I gave you.”

  Sochai spun around and smashed Li Kung across the face, sending him flying back and crashing into the floor. Pun leaped across the room to Li Kung’s side.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted.

  Sochai shook for a brief second, his eyes distant, the poison suddenly overwhelming his sense of judgment. He toppled over, unconscious. Li Kung scrambled to his feet, backing away from the fallen Mongolian. His mentor hurried over with a porcelain bowl. “What’s happening?” Li Kung asked, shaking.

  “Come. Let’s get the blood.”

  “Don’t go near him,” Pun shouted. “He’s dangerous!”

  “What did you do to him?” Li Kung asked.

  Old Two seemed annoyed. “Haven’t you learned anything yet? When you want to find out anything about anyone, you read his pulse.”

  Li Kung reached over cautiously and placed three fingers on the Mongolian’s wrist. “Did you just poison him?”

  “No, I’m only helping him get some sleep,” the old man chuckled. He looked at Li Kung, at his frightened eyes, and laughed harder. “Come and help me. We can’t allow such valuable blood to go to waste. Look at him. He wanted to fight, just like Old Three. And he didn’t want to give me any blood, even though he doesn’t need it anymore. How selfish.”

  The old man pierced Sochai’s arm once, then raised the elbow to flow his blood into the bowl. Li Kung watched in amazement.

  “Come and help!” Old Two barked.

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