Five Odd Honors (30 page)

Copper Gong refused such pampering, saying that her packs were not nearly as heavy as those carried by the others.

Night came, and they were grateful for the chance to rest. They had to do without tents, because there was no way to picket them in the stone, but as rain seemed unlikely, no one much minded.

“I wonder if,” Riprap said once they had all eaten and rested, “we should consider continuing after we’ve had a little sleep. Night would certainly be cooler.”

“But we are navigating solely by the compass,” Flying Claw reminded him. “Flashlights do not work here, and torches are cumbersome and unreliable. I would hate to discover we had strayed between compass checks.”

“We could work a spell for light,” Gentle Smoke mused, “but there are creatures that would be drawn to the spell—and we would not be able to see them coming.”

In the end, they decided to keep traveling by day. They had packed plenty of water, and unless the structure of the terrain had changed since Li of the Iron Crutch had made his journey, there was promise of water at the end of the Forest of Stone Trees.

Li’s report had led them to expect two days of such travel, but it was not until very late on the second day that they saw what must be the wall of water far in the distance.

“At least another half day, then,” Riprap estimated. “I can’t hear anything.”

“I might,” Loyal Wind said, twitching his horse ears forward. “A distant rumble, but then I could be imagining it.”

Gentle Smoke stretched the length of her snake’s body against the stone and begged them all to hold perfectly still.

After a long moment she said, “Perhaps a faint vibration, but like Loyal Wind, I could be imagining it.”

It was not until evening of the third day that they reached the wall of water, and since the light was fading, they chose to stop short of the wall itself.

“We can sleep dry,” Des said, toweling himself off. He and Flying Claw had insisted on going closer to the wall in order to inspect it. “Even thirty feet out the spray soaked me to the skin.”

“And the sound!” Flying Claw added, pressing his hands lightly to his ears. “The sound was like a thousand tigers arguing with the grandmother of all thunderstorms. Thank you, Riprap, for insisting we pack those ear plugs. Even wearing them, I thought my head would split from the noise.”

“There’s no way,” Des said, taking a dry shirt out of his pack, “we’re going to cross that without magic—lots of magic. I’m glad we decided not to haul diving gear along. Even if we could breathe, the force of that falling water would pulverize us.”

Flying Claw nodded. “And I’m glad we prepared spells in advance. I don’t think I could concentrate to cast from memory—and more usual written charms would simply wash away.”

He was bending over his pack as he spoke, pulling out a dry tunic and trousers. He had agreed that wearing his armor all day in the heat would be more bane than blessing, because if some monster rose from the plain to attack them, he would be too exhausted to fight effectively.

Loyal Wind wasn’t precisely watching, but when he was a horse, he did tend to be more alert to sudden motion. Therefore, he noticed when Flying Claw quickly moved something from the pocket of his wet trousers into the pocket of his dry set.

Whatever it was was purple, a dark lavender shade that Loyal Wind was certain he had seen before. In a moment he had placed it. . . . Brenda Morris liked that color, and often tied her long hair back with a soft fabric band in that precise shade.

Does the Tiger care for the Rat, then?
Loyal Wind thought with the sensitivity of one romantic for the amours of another.
I believe he does, although he is very careful not to show his feelings too plainly. Sad. I think the girl would have welcomed a declaration, and now she is gone. If her father has his way, I would not be surprised if she is gone for a very long time.

Loyal Wind wondered if, when this new life was over and he had returned to the afterlife, he should seek out the ghost of Water Cloud the Rooster. Although death had re united them in a common state half a century ago, Loyal Wind had never sought her out, kept from doing so by his anger, resentment, and—he could admit it now—his own self-loathing.

But he had grown beyond that now, and although he wondered just a little why Water Cloud had never sought him out, he had to admit that even if she had, the reunion would not have been a joyful one.

Perhaps she sensed that,
he thought.
Perhaps someone even told her what a sorry excuse for a man I had become. I will seek her out, even if only to apologize for thinking so much of myself that I didn’t think better of her.

When morning
came, the scouts made preparations, then advanced on the wall of water.

One option they had discussed while in the Land of the Burning had beensummoning one or more dragons to help them with the crossing, since dragons not only could breathe water as if it were air, but could extend this power to one or more companions.

However, Gentle Smoke had expressed concern that they could not be certain that any dragon associated with this part of the Lands would not be in league with whoever had created this strange area.

“We would not wish,” she said, “to be in the midst of that maelstrom and find ourselves betrayed.”

Gentle Smoke had offered to come up with a solution that would enable them all to breath water and travel in close company. Bent Bamboo had offered to assist.

Now, with considerable pride, they revealed their creation.

“We apologize,” Gentle Smoke began, “for not showing you sooner, but we were working on refinements until right before our departure.”

She pulled out a slim piece of hollow bamboo, capped at each end, and from it slid a piece of rolled paper. Spread out, the paper revealed an intricate drawing surrounded by various ideograms.

The picture showed a fish rather like a carp except that on the bottom of its body, along with the two pairs of lower fins, were two sets of chicken legs.

“Is that a real creature?” Des asked, obviously amazed.

“It is,” Gentle Smoke confirmed. “This is a Zao-Fish. They live in a lake fed by the snowmelt of a particular mountain. In the spring and early summer, the lake floods a considerable area, but in late summer the lake begins to dry up. The legs enable the fish to cross the dry areas to rejoin the larger part of the lake.”

“Makes sense,” Des said. “In a twisted sort of way. Why chicken legs?”

“Good eating?” Riprap hazarded. Then more seriously, “How can a Zao-Fish, or even a school of Zao-Fish, solve our problem?”

“Like dragons,” Gentle Smoke said, “the Zao-Fish can breathe both air and water. Like dragons, they can share this ability with those who are in close contact with them.

“When I was alive, I had a cottage near the lake where the Zao-Fish lived and I grew very familiar with them. What I propose to do is enchant the semblance of a Zao-Fish to carry us on the next stage of our journey.”

“Carry us?” asked Flying Claw.

“Yes. We will ride on its back. Our luggage can be carried within the belly.”

Bent Bamboo took a box from his sleeve and opened it to display a perfect replica of a Zao-Fish, shaped from clay.

“We made this back at Pearl’s,” he explained, “and have already set the preliminary enchantments. We will need to activate various spells to give the fish greater size and the ability of in de pen dent motion.”

What followed was a discussion of how the spell—or rather series of spells—could be worked.

“I’m going to feel really dumb riding on a giant goldfish with chicken legs,” Riprap said. “I’d feel pretty dumb even if it didn’t have chicken legs. Couldn’t you have made a car or even a horse?”

“Cars would not likely function here,” Gentle Smoke said calmly, “any more than flashlights do.”

“And horses,” Loyal Wind added, “don’t breathe both water and air.”

“Yeah, I know,” Riprap persisted, “but this thing we’re making won’t either, will it? You’ve infused it with spells for water breathing and all that.”

“And the spells will work,” Gentle Smoke replied patiently, “because the Zao-Fish can do those things, and we will also be telling the clay figure that it is a Zao-Fish.”

“A really big Zao-Fish,” Des added, looking at the clay model in Gentle Smoke’s hands. “That one is hardly big enough to have for dinner.”

“We will be activating spells of increase,” Bent Bamboo said, rather less patiently. “Why don’t you go and focus your ch’i? We’re going to need a great deal, even with all the advanced preparation Gentle Smoke and I have done.”

Loyal Wind decided meditation was a good choice for him as well. Staying in his horse form was no more tiring for him than remaining human, but the transition between forms was draining. Nine Ducks had already returned to her human form and withdrawn to the edge of the campsite.

“I agree with Bent Bamboo’s suggestion,” Nine Ducks said. “I am experiencing great difficulty in tapping the local ch’i—something I had not expected, since we are effectively upon earth and earth is the Ox’s element. However, the currents seem bound into this strange, hard soil, and I can only release them with great effort.”

Loyal Wind found it impossible for him to tap the local ch’i at all, not a great surprise given the proximity of vast amounts of water—the element that destroyed his own element of fire. However, he had long experience in enhancing his personal ch’i by circulating it through the various meridians of his body. He sank into deep meditation so that he might focus more efficiently.

When he was brought back into the outer world by a tap on the shoulder from Copper Gong, Loyal Wind found the Zao-Fish neatly set in the center of a small altar. The model was exquisitely detailed, with a long body, the dorsal fin set far back along its spine, its tail short and powerful, its eyes wide set andslightly bulging. Even the chicken legs were sculpted, the lumpy skin similar to yet different from the fish scales, detailed right down to the more polished surface of the clawed feet.

“Nice altar,” Loyal Wind said.

“Riprap set it up,” Gentle Smoke said, “so that Bent Bamboo and I would be free to meditate.”

Riprap shrugged. “I could fetch and carry,” he said, “and I’m not good at building my ch’i yet.”

“Nine Ducks is right,” the Monkey said, stretching in a manner that made his joints pop audibly. “The ch’i here is bound up tighter than—”

He caught a warning glance from Copper Gong and looked abashed. “Really tight. My element is metal, and I couldn’t touch either earth or water.”

“Then it is fortunate,” Gentle Smoke said, “that you helped cast so many of the spells back in the Land of the Burning. Your generous expenditure of ch’i there means that we will need less now—and so have some left over for when we need it.”

And I fear we will need it,
Loyal Wind thought.

While shaping the model, Gentle Smoke had infused it with a number of stored spells. Now, with the assistance of the others, she activated them. One gave the fish the semblance of a living creature, its dark orange scales lightly mottled with black flecks, its fins translucent except for the continuation of the dark markings.

Another spell gave the Zao-Fish an appetite for luggage. Another made it receptive to carrying passengers—and strong enough to do so with ease. Others assured that it would breathe both water and air, and pass those qualities on to its passengers.

Gentle Smoke had not forgotten to ensure they would be able to see easily while under water, and to bear the pressure of the water beating down on them, for these were both natural traits of any fish.

“We may still get wet, though,” Gentle Smoke said. “Zao-Fish like being wet.”

The final spell was the one that gave the model its abnormal size. When it had been worked, and the luggage fed into its belly, Loyal Wind was more than happy to mount up and rest.

“I will take my snake form,” Gentle Smoke said. “That will give the Zao-Fish a little less weight to carry—and if we need a scout ahead, I can swim fairly well in that form. Snakes are not as powerful as dragons, but I can protect myself from drowning.”

“I wonder if the wall of water will also take three days to cross,” Flying Claw speculated. “Tigers like to swim, but three days of wet is a bit much.”

“We can hope not,” Copper Gong said. “After all, crossing through water is much harder than walking over earth. The one only requires persistence, but the other requires a certain amount of ingenuity.”

But the wall of water was indeed three days thick, three days of pounding water beating against them until they gave up on modesty and rode naked lest their clothing shred from the relentless pressure. The water was not particularly cold, but it chilled them to the bone nonetheless. Only the fact that the Zao-Fish considered being cold and wet natural kept the situation from being unbearable, for some of the Zao-Fish’s attitude passed into its riders.

By the end of the first day, even Riprap and Bent Bamboo had lost the capacity to joke. Since the Zao-Fish was tireless as long as they continued to give it ch’i, they decided not to camp, but to press on.

Gentle Smoke periodically slid into the Zao-Fish’s belly and emerged with food to sustain them; drink was unnecessary. The portions of cold meat, fruit, and a few eggs that had been boiled over the last fire were small, because although Gentle Smoke could be a large snake, she had many to feed and lacked hands. Nor could she spare the ch’i to shift form repeatedly.