Chasing the Phoenix (2 page)

None of this discouraged Surplus, however, for he saw the staring eyes all about him, and heard the whispered comments in his wake, and knew that he was at the epicenter of expanding circles of rumor and speculation that were even now running swiftly through the city. Someone, he was sure, would materialize soon enough and provide him with the information he sought. In the meantime, he noted approvingly that though many of the merchants stiffened and paled at the sight of him, all replied to his questions politely, and several offered him a mango, a glass of liqueur, or the like. One man, indeed, eyes quivering, urged upon him a pearl the size of his fist, carved into the likeness of an ocean wave crashing into a mountainside, near the summit of which was a small pagoda topped by the obscure religious symbol the ancients called a “satellite dish.” Then, when that was refused, the vendor tried to give him a chunk of ivory root carved into eight concentric lattice balls, each so decorated as to represent one of the possible electron shells of an atom with the ephemeral forms that decayed almost instantly on the outermost two shells and the yin and yang of hydrogen and helium at the center. It seemed that the renowned courtesy of Brocade was not entirely of his own invention.

“Sir! Dog-man, sir!”

A young man came running out in the street and bowed deeply before Surplus. “My name is Capable Servant, sir, and I am looking for employment.”

“I have no need of a servant,” Surplus said, and turned away.

But somehow the young man had twisted himself in front of Surplus again. Smiling ingratiatingly, he said, “Everybody needs a servant, excellent sir, whether they know it or not. I can wash and mend clothes, shop wisely, haggle well over prices, brew beer, mix ink, and cut goose quills into pens. When times are hard, I can trap hares in the countryside and, with the aid of roots and spices I know how to identify in the wild, turn them into a delicious stew. I am able to distinguish poisonous mushrooms from those which are nutritious to eat, and can whistle cheerful tunes to repel ghosts. I will wake you up in the morning, draw your bath, discreetly relay love letters to your paramours, and carry you home safely when you're drunk. Also, I can curry the fur of your yak and, saving the hair that comes off in the brush, make of it a soft yarn from which to knit you warm socks for the winter, and perform a thousand chores more besides.”

“These are all useful services, and I have no doubt you will easily find someone who needs them done. For my part, my only desire is to find the Infallible Physician.” Surplus gently pushed the young man aside and continued onward.

Only to discover Capable Servant trotting by his side, eyes agleam. “Oh, sir! I know where to find that esteemed gentleman. I even know why others do not, for I am curious by nature and make it my business to listen to all the gossip and idle chatter, and I forget not a word of it, though years may pass. I am a very useful fellow indeed, sir.”

Surplus stopped. “Very well,” he said. “If you can bring me to the Infallible Physician and if he can bring my friend back to life, as I was told in the steppes he could, then I will hire you at standard wages for so long as you wish to be my servant.”

“You are truly gracious, sir. The Infallible Physician no longer lives in Brocade. Several years ago, he retired to a small hut in a village an hour's walk outside the city walls. That is why he is so hard to find. But I shall lead you directly to his door.”

*   *   *

THUS IT
was that, within hours of entering Brocade, Surplus left again, this time in possession of a manservant. As they walked, Surplus asked, “Is your name really Capable Servant?”

“Oh yes, sir. My mother named me Capable Servant of No Special Distinction, thinking it would improve my chances of finding employment. Capable Servant, because that is what every gentleman needs. Of No Special Distinction to reassure my master that I am unlikely to leave his hire seeking better pay elsewhere.”

“How, then, did you find yourself in need of a job?”

“My last employer grew very old and died.” Capable Servant made a sad face. “But tell me, sir. When I am asked the name of my employer, what shall I say?”

“My name is Sir Blackthorpe Ravenscairn de Plus Precieux, which is how I should be addressed on formal occasions. But, that being a bit overlong for everyday use, you may call me Surplus.”

“Yours is a strange and wonderful name,” Capable Servant marveled, “and surely foretells some great destiny. May I ask you another question, sir?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why is it that you have the stance and intellect of a man, but the fur and features of a dog?”

“In the Demesne of Western Vermont, that great nation whose citizen I have the honor to be”—in Chinese the name translated as the Land of the Green Mountains of the West—“the scientists are particularly adept at genetic manipulation. Taking the genome of the noble dog, they expressed a gene here and suppressed another there to create me as I am.”

“Yes, sir. Exactly so, sir. But, sir—why?”

“Oh,” Surplus said, glancing up the road lazily curving to the top of a low hill, “I am certain that they had their reasons.”

At that instant, a giant metal spider crested the hilltop. Lifting and dropping eight sleek and cunningly jointed legs, the gleaming black monstrosity stalked down the road toward the two travelers with ponderous delicacy. Surplus stopped dead in his tracks. Capable Servant fell over backward in astonishment.

The incredible machine flowed down the hillside and then came to a stop directly before Surplus. Its legs bent, lowering the soldier in the cab that made up its flattened sphere of a body to Surplus's eye level. They goggled at one another in amazement.

“Hello!” The soldier might have been a child witnessing its first circus.

“Hello!” Surplus, for his part, could not have been more astonished if a
Megalosaurus,
forty feet long, had come waddling out of the underbrush.

“What on earth are you?” the soldier demanded.

“I might ask the same question of you,” Surplus replied.

“I am Sergeant Bright Prosperity of the Good Fortune Spider Corps”—the young man slapped the metal flank of his vehicle—“and this is my war machine, Death to the Enemies of the State. And you, sir?”

“I am but a humble shaman from the steppes of Mongolia. Forgive me for saying so, but your machine terrifies me. It is like a nightmare out of the past. Surely in China, as in all civilized lands, such complex mechanisms are both illegal and abhorred.”

The soldier laughed. “Ah, sir, my mount and I are not of the past, but rather the spearhead of the future. These resurrected machines will be the terror of the Hidden King's enemies and the foundation of the Abundant Kingdom's new glory. Our scholars located them in hidden man-made caverns deep within the earth, our natural philosophers created fuel for them, and now men such as I have learned how to make them go where we wish. Yes, in all the other countries of China the Great, they are yet shunned and feared. That, they shall discover to their chagrin, will be their downfall.”

“You intend to use this dreadful thing as a weapon?” Surplus asked.

“Only the Hidden King is in a position to make such a decision.” The soldier lifted his chin. “But when he does—as I am sure he must—I stand ready to ride my mount to the Land of the Mountain Horses, across the Panda Mountains, and all the way to its capital city of Peace, scattering his enemies before me.”

“You are a bold man, Sergeant Bright Prosperity, and so I can only conclude is your king as well. Would you like me to bestow a blessing upon you and your mechanical arachnid abomination?”

“Thank you, but no, oh dog-shaman. My mount and I are in no need of your superstitious mumbo jumbo.”

“Then I shall simply stand out of your way.”

The soldier raised his spider's cab to its full height and it strode down the road.

In its wake, a second spider topped the hill, and behind that a third. One by one, over forty such vehicles sped lightly past Surplus and Capable Servant, who stared after them until all had disappeared in the distance.

“Have I seen what I saw, or was it all a dream?” one of them asked.

“A dream, surely,” said the other. “And yet it seemed so real.”

Marveling, they resumed their journey.

*   *   *

IN THOUGHTFUL
silence Surplus and his new servant made their way through the countryside to the edge of a small but tidy village. There they were directed to a thatched hut with a single flowering magnolia in the dirt dooryard. Chickens scratched about among the sparse weeds. It seemed a highly unlikely place to find an illustrious man of medicine.

At a nod from Surplus, Capable Servant knocked on the door.

A white-bearded man, bent over with age and leaning on a stick whose support he clearly needed, answered the knock, frowning. “Go away,” he said, and slammed the door.

The two excludees looked at one another. Then Capable Servant knocked a second time.

Again, the ancient opened the door.

“Brave news, oh renowned Infallible Physician!” Capable Servant said, beaming. “My master, the Sir Blackthorpe Ravenscairn de Plus Precieux of the Land of the Green Mountains of the West, has come to consult with you and to avail himself of your considerable and accomplished skills.”

From the corner of his eye, Surplus saw neighbors peering out of their windows and children climbing up on fences to gawk. He raised his head to emphasize his canine profile and twitched his tail so that all might see it was real.

The Infallible Physician stepped aside from his door. “Very well,” he said. “Enter, if you must.”

*   *   *

“BRIGHT PEARL!”
the old man shouted into the darkness. “Guest! Make tea! My daughter,” he said to Surplus. “Almost useless. Very lazy.”

A middle-aged woman appeared in the kitchen doorway, bowed quickly, disappeared again.

Infallible Physician sat, and Surplus followed suit. After a polite pause to give his host the opportunity to speak, Surplus said, “Sir, I have come seeking your—”

“I am the best doctor there is,” the Infallible Physician said. “But I cannot help you.” He laughed sharply. “You look like a dog! No cure for that.”

Careful not to let his annoyance show, Surplus said, “I have no desire to deny my ancestry, sir. Your services are required not by me but by my friend. In Mongolia, he caught one of the war viruses that still linger from the mad times following the fall of Utopia. To save him, the doctors there swiftly and painlessly put him to death. Then, before putrefaction could set in, they wrapped around his body a silver exoskeleton, a revenant of antiquity, which (and this may sound incredible, but I saw it with my own two eyes) sank beneath his skin like butter melting into toast, leaving neither scar nor incision behind. Finally, they injected him with drugs and packed his body cavities with herbs. Together, these things preserve him in perfect stasis, dead but not deteriorating. One week in this state, they assured me, would be enough to starve the virus, thus destroying it. Unfortunately, while they could preserve his body, they had long ago forgotten how to resurrect it.”

“I see,” the Infallible Physician said.

“Sir, your fame has spread far from the Abundant Kingdom. The Mongolian doctors told me that what they could not do, you and you alone assuredly could. This is why I have sought you out. Will you help me?”

“Ah.” The old man nodded and fell into silence again.

“Sir? Please tell me that my long journey has not been in vain.”

The Infallible Physician smiled and narrowed his eyes so that only slits remained open. From between the lids he peered enigmatically at his guest.

“Sir, I must implore you—”

“It is no use.” Bright Pearl emerged from the kitchen holding a tray with a teakettle and four cups. She poured one cup for Surplus and another for her father, who bent low over it and slurped noisily. “My father has moments of lucidity, but they do not last. He will be silent now for hours and possibly days. In any event—and please pardon me for overhearing your conversation, but the house is small—the man you came here looking for was not he but my grandfather.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Bright Pearl poured another cup of tea for Capable Servant, who accepted it with a bob of his head and a bright smile, and a fourth for herself. Then she knelt, facing Surplus. “Ninety years ago, the original Infallible Physician and his beautiful young wife came to Brocade from what distant land no man today may say. He was everything your friends told you and more. There was no disease he could not cure nor any injury he could not ameliorate. It was said that he retained secrets of medicine which all the rest of the world had forgotten. Thus, for many years, he prospered. His wife bore him a son, and when that son came of age, the Infallible Physician taught him the healing arts.

“Yet, oddly enough, he and his wife did not age like normal people do, so that when the son was grown, they looked not like his parents but like brother and sister to him. The neighbors began to gossip that they were not human at all. There was talk of bringing them before the magistrate as demons.

“Then, one night, before any violence could occur, the couple simply disappeared. After an appropriate period of mourning, their son took over his father's business and, because he had been wisely taught, in time became known as the Infallible Physician himself. For while his skills were inferior to his father's they greatly surpassed those of all other doctors. That man was my father, and in turn he married and had two sons and a daughter. That daughter was I.

“Alas, my brothers both died before I was born and my father thought it shameful that a woman should become a doctor. I had ambitions of my own, however, and studied his books in secret and stood at his elbow, watching while he worked. I would have become the third Infallible Physician if only he had allowed it. But he would not. Even when he began to sink into senility and I begged him to let me cure him, he forbade it absolutely.