The Ghost Bride (12 page)
In the end, I persuaded Fan to show me the gateway.
She was reluctant to do so at first, coming up with a number of excuses.
Eventually I managed to winkle out of her the fact that she had not left the
house for almost three years. “I’ve just been keeping him company,” she said
with a sly glance.
I was suddenly reminded of something she had
mentioned earlier. “Dreams,” I said, thinking about Lim Tian Ching’s access to
my own dreams. She gave a guilty start. “You said he wouldn’t forget you in his
dreams. How did you manage that?”
Fan began to pleat her sleeves again. “If I tell
you, you must put in a good word for me.”
“I can’t promise you that. But I’ll try.” Uneasily,
I thought that if only she knew how desperately I was groping for information,
barely even knowing who or what the border officials were, she would hardly
bother to waste her time on me. But Fan looked satisfied.
“Well, I found that if I press this thread into his
body while he’s sleeping, sometimes I can make my way into his dreams. There
he’s young again, and we’re together. Lately, though, his dreams have been
getting stronger than reality, which is why I think he’s going to die soon.”
I shuddered. This was almost exactly what happened
to itinerant scholars in the novels I had read. A beautiful ghost enticed them
into a world of dreams until they wasted away in search of phantom pleasures. I
didn’t really understand the rules of this afterworld, but I was certain that
they must exist from my conversations with Lim Tian Ching. No wonder Fan seemed
fearful of the authorities. But she was already leading the way through the long
shop house, passing through the front door with no resistance at all. With my
greater mass, it took me longer to catch up. When I emerged onto the street, I
stopped in wonder. The dark night was lit up with spirit lights.
S
ome
were green, like Fan’s corpse light; others were different colors, like strange
flowers that bloomed in the night. Among the crowds of hungry ghosts and other
human phantoms were carriages and sedan chairs lit with swaying lanterns, and
drawn by horses and other scaled creatures I had never seen before. There were
tiger-headed men and tiny birds with female faces. Women with backward-pointing
feet mingled with lizards dressed in court robes. The walking trees and enormous
glowing flowers must be the plant spirits and minor deities that Fan had
mentioned. In amazement, I stared at this parade of otherworldly creatures.
Dimly, I could hear the sounds of a busy street but the noise was muffled, as
though it had traveled a great distance. And at the same time, I was assailed by
the same suffocating sensation that I had encountered at the Lim mansion.
Retching, I gasped for breath.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Don’t you know? It’s the spirits. This is nothing,
you should see how many come out on feast days.”
“But I can hardly breathe.”
She peered at me. “That’s spiritual pressure,
caused by the congregation of yin from the ghosts. I don’t know what heaven is
like, but the longer you mingle with the dead, the less it will bother you.”
With horror, I realized that she was right. After
all, when Lim Tian Ching had begun to haunt me, I had suffered from this choking
sensation in my dreams. Earlier that day, when I had first seen such lights at
the Lim mansion, I had been so overcome that I had been forced to leave. But now
I was able to talk to Fan without any particular effect, though perhaps her
long-dead spirit was more insubstantial. I braced myself against a wall until
the intensity began to subside. This in itself was probably a bad sign, but
there was nothing I could do about it.
“And there is the gate,” she said, pointing upward
to a brightness in the sky. Faintly, I could make out a great arch through which
a host of spirits streamed in like an endless river of lights. But it was so far
away.
“How do you get there?” I asked.
“You float,” she said. “Can’t you feel the pull it
exerts? I’m sure that if I climbed on a roof and let go, I would drift
there.”
“I don’t think I can float like you.”
“Fly, then,” she said. “Isn’t that how you came
from the heavenly realm?”
I was saved from having to reply by a sudden
commotion.
M
ake
way! make way!” Driven by these cries, the crowd surged like a wave. Beating
them back were four monstrous creatures with the heads of belligerent oxen
joined to the bodies of men. Each carried a halberd and wore a black uniform
with scarlet edging. With snorts and fearful bellows, they parted the crowd
easily. Beside me, Fan gave a convulsive shudder.
“Who are they?” I asked.
Frantically she motioned me to be silent. Behind
this escort came a blood red palanquin. There was something about the
ostentatious trappings that seemed familiar to me and I pressed forward, hoping
for a closer look. The shutters were drawn but an errant gust of wind blew them
inward. Impatiently, a plump hand batted them back but not before I had seen its
owner. There, sitting at ease within, was Lim Tian Ching.
I cried out in amazement and started forward. In
that instant, though, my voice was lost in the roaring of the escort, Lim Tian
Ching’s eyes turned toward me as though he alone had heard my cry.
Instinctively, I ducked behind a beast with curling antlers. A frown creased his
features. In another moment, the entire procession had passed.
“Who was that?” I asked Fan. She had been creeping
back toward the shop house, but I forestalled her.
“Those were the border officials!” she said. I
blanched. I had been hoping to find some sort of bureaucrat to appeal to, but
these monstrous creatures were beyond my comprehension. Fan looked queasy.
“Well, those were only foot soldiers, but the border officials are the same type
of ox-headed demon. We ghosts try to avoid them as much as possible.”
“But there was a human ghost in the palanquin,” I
said.
“Then he’s probably someone important. Or has
plenty of money. The authorities can be bribed to extend all sorts of
privileges. Don’t you know that this part of the afterlife is ruled by the
judges of hell? Before entering the courts for judgment and reincarnation,
there’s a place called the Plains of the Dead, where you’re allowed to enjoy the
funeral offerings that your family burned for you. It’s only for human ghosts,
though; you can’t stay forever. I have a little house there and a couple of
servants. But I haven’t gone back in a while.” Despite herself, a shiver ran
through Fan’s frame.
“Why not?”
“I told you! My time is up. I was supposed to
report to the gateway and have my case processed for judgment a long time ago.”
A stubborn look crossed her face. “If my father had only burned more funeral
money for me then I could bribe the border officials. I hope that when my lover
dies his family will burn a great deal of cash for him. I’ve been watching them
for years and they’re very fond of him.”
“Won’t you need to report to the courts
eventually?”
“Well, certainly. But that may not have to be for a
long time. Centuries, if we have enough money.” I looked doubtfully at Fan.
“Don’t look at me like that!” she said. “Didn’t you
see that ghost in the palanquin? He’s proof that you can do what you like if you
have the resources. Now, are we done?”
I watched as she slipped back through the shop
house door. I hadn’t particularly liked her, yet she had a pathos that made me
pity her scheming. Still, something she’d mentioned stirred me. Studying the
darkened doorway, I had the impression that Fan was still waiting, pressed
against the other side. I walked over and addressed the silent facade.
“Just one more thing,” I said. “How do I find the
Plains of the Dead?”
There was a faint gasp, then Fan’s pale face
reappeared, floating upon the surface of the wooden door. It would have
frightened me badly before but I had become accustomed to such sights. “How did
you know I was there? You really are a fairy maiden after all!”
“Where are the Plains of the Dead?” I repeated.
Somehow the place seemed to draw me. My thoughts flew, unaccountably, to my
mother. Amah had always been so certain that she had been spared the torments of
judgment and long since been reborn, but I could not help wondering if she was
still there.
“There are entrances all over the place, like the
gateway. The hungry ghosts can’t go there either. They have no clothes and no
money for the journey. They can’t even steal, as spirit goods must be given
freely.”
“How do you go?”
“I told you, I have a couple of servants. When I
reach the plains, I call them and they come and carry me.”
“Could I go there?”
She gave me a long look, suspicion struggling with
curiosity again. “Why do you need to go, and how will you cross the plains?”
“Perhaps you could give me a ride?”
“Certainly not! My servants are frail and rather
rickety. They’re beginning to fall apart after so many years. But if you have
money, you can purchase your passage.” She looked hard at me. I turned out my
pockets, revealing a few strings of cash and a couple of small ingots.
“You’ll need more than that,” she said with a
barely concealed snort. Inwardly, I cursed the fact that I hadn’t finished
burning all the funeral money before Amah had stopped me that day.
“I tell you what,” said Fan. “If you wish to go to
the Plains of the Dead, I’ll show you the way. For a price.”
“I thought you were provided for.”
“Just barely. I don’t want to meet my lover looking
like a beggar when the time comes.”
“Don’t you see him in dreams already?”
“Dreams! I can manipulate the setting a little, but
when he dies he’ll see me as I am. Come, don’t you think this is a good
bargain?”
I thought it over and nodded.
“But you need more money. Ask your Heavenly
Authorities. Remember, we’ll have to buy horses, wagons, and clothing.”
“And how will I find you when I need you?”
She shrugged. “I’m always here. But hurry! I’m
afraid that he won’t live much longer.”
I
had asked Fan about the Plains of the Dead on an impulse, thinking of my mother and also that if I were really desperate it would be one place that I could surely find Lim Tian Ching, hopefully without a demon escort. After all, Fan had said the Plains of the Dead were for human ghosts and had I not witnessed firsthand his mansions and parklands, horses and stables in my dreams? Now that I had an alternate theory of his murder, with Yan Hong as a suspect, I might be able to persuade him to abandon his vendetta, though, to be honest, my prospects seemed bleak. I wasn’t even sure how to persuade anyone to burn funeral money on my behalf.
As I went farther away from the shop houses, the number of spirit lights began to decrease. I wondered whether there was any significance to the roads most utilized by ghosts, some underlying meaning or ancient penchant for certain areas. In the meantime, I took care to avoid being seen by other spiritual denizens. The tales I had heard as a child suggested that there were far more terrifying things abroad than what I had just witnessed.
Before I realized it, I came upon the old Stadthuys. Squat and square, painted a deep red with heavy masonry walls and a sloping European roof, it was a reminder of the times when the Dutch ruled Malacca. I had never been inside but I knew the British still used it as government quarters. The locals said it was haunted and despite myself, I drew back with a prickle of fear. I looked around for spirit lights, but in this quarter there were none. Perhaps they were all inside, those stolid Dutch burghers and their wives in ancient crinolined splendor, still pacing the massive beamed floors and fretting over the trading prices of pepper and nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves. The town square lay in front, rigidly planted with flower beds in the Dutch tradition, and punctuated by a fountain. Water gleamed in its still basin and reminded me of my sore feet. I went cautiously over to look into it.
As I bent over the basin, I became aware of another image reflected next to mine, a hazy shape that resolved into an old man wearing a rumpled blouse. He was worn so thin that in the moonlight he was a creature stitched out of fine white lace.
“Who are you?” I whispered at last.
The old man stirred. “Ah, I see you now.” The pale light illuminated a nose like a parrot’s beak and deep eye sockets. A foreigner, I thought. I had never been so close to one before.
“You are not dead, but neither are you truly living. You poor creature.” He was the first spirit who had seen clearly what I was and I drew back, frightened. “I won’t bite. No, no, I won’t. What are you doing here? You should go back to your home.” Although his accent and appearance were strange to me, he spoke in a kindly manner and it was this, coupled with exhaustion, which brought tears to my eyes.
“There, there,” he said. “Stop crying. You can hear me, can’t you?”
Mutely, I nodded.
“A little Chinese girl, I see,” he said. “Begging your pardon, a young lady.”
“Who are you?”
“Me? Old Willem Ganesvoort, that’s who. Just sitting by the fountain as is my wont.”
“You are a Dutchman,” I said excitedly.
“I
was
a Dutchman,” he corrected. “Now I am, what? A spirit, a soul.”
“Why are you here?”
“I should ask you the same question,” he said in mild reproof, “but there, ladies will have their way.” He gave me a stiff but courtly bow. As he did so I noticed that one of his arms was crippled, clutched to his chest like a fledgling’s wing. “I shipped out to the Orient when I was a young man. Trained as an architect, that was my profession. Ah yes, my arm,” he said, noticing my gaze. “Born with it, died with it. Nobody thought I could ship out from Rotterdam with this arm, though it was good enough to see the world with. But I always loved Malacca the best. And so when my time was up, I stayed a little longer. I like to look at my handiwork, I suppose.”
“And what was that? The Stadthuys?”
“Oh no! Bless me, how old do you think I am? The Stadthuys was built in 1650. I am not quite of that vintage. I helped to make that small addition, however.”
I peered at the darkened building but couldn’t make out what he was pointing at. “Very nice,” I said at last.
“You think so? Of all the buildings I designed, I like it the best. That little addition was nothing much, but I was very pleased at the way it came together. But where might you be off to?”
I opened my mouth, then stopped. I was tired of talking, tired of walking and finding no rest. I wasn’t even sure of this Dutchman, though he seemed harmless enough and so insubstantial that I was quite convinced of his great age.
A faint smile broke across his face. “You don’t trust me. I suppose I can hardly blame you. I myself didn’t speak to another ghost for quite fifty years. But that was my own prejudice. We did not mix so much with the natives in my time, you see; and the only other Dutchman around was that lunatic who killed himself by jumping off the clock tower. Time has mellowed me, however. Besides, it is lonely not to have anyone to talk to.”
The idea of lingering for centuries induced a state of near panic. “I’m looking for the Plains of the Dead,” I said.
“The Plains of the Dead?” he said. “I cannot help you. I cannot find such a place at all, although I have often heard it mentioned. Those are not my beliefs, my child. That is not my afterworld.”
I was silent for a moment. “But you can see me! You can talk to me!”
“Yes, yes. Of course, we are still very much in the living plane. And you also see these cobblestones beneath our feet, and the moonlight shining on this fountain. This is not really the afterlife, my dear. It is merely the very tail end of living. From here we all go on.”
“So what happens to your kind when you die?” I asked.
“Do you know, I am not entirely sure? But my dear mother taught me that there is a merciful God and that is what I choose to believe. Either that, or I shall simply fade away.”
“How did you know what I am?”
“Because I saw one such as you a long time ago. An Indian boy who fell from a tree. The fall didn’t kill him so he lingered for a while.”
“How long?”
“Only a few days. He couldn’t eat, you see, and when his heart stopped beating, he finally became a ghost. Poor creature, he was so frightened.”
“Does that mean that I have only a few days too?” My voice shook.
“I don’t know. But you seem stronger than he was. Your body must be stable. But take good care of it. Unless, of course, you are ready to journey on.”
Despite his kindly manner, his words frightened me more than anything I had encountered that night. “Is there no way for me to return to the living?” I asked.
“There may be. There! Don’t fret. Pray that all will be well, and I will pray for you too.” He sighed and for a time we were silent. A faint line of light appeared on the horizon. “Perhaps you should return to take care of your body,” said the Dutchman at last.
“I’m not sure how to get there from here.”
“That I may be able to help you with,” he said. Hesitantly, I described our neighborhood.
“Ah, the merchant quarter,” he said. “It has been a long time since I ventured there. But it is not so difficult to find. Here is how you go.” He knelt, using his good arm to trace a map on a patch of earth. None of his gestures made the slightest mark, but by the faint afterimage left by his ghostly hand, I was able to understand his directions.
“And if I take this road instead?” I asked.
The fresh light of dawn began to flood the town square. I turned to look beside me but the old Dutchman was gone. I did not know what had happened to him; whether he had finally disappeared, his fragile form evaporating under the bright gaze of the sun, or whether he was so ancient that he could only be seen by moonlight. As it was, I sat there disconsolately for a while. Birds were chirping and mist lay above the night-chilled water in the fountain basin. I found that I was weary, so weary and heartsick that I went and lay down beside the Stadthuys, like any beggar on the streets.
W
hen I got up again, the sun was high in the sky. I set off hastily, suddenly full of anxiety for my body. The Dutchman’s directions had been good. Clear and concise, he had somehow impressed the overall pattern of the town upon me and soon I found myself on familiar streets. My steps quickened as I drew near our house, then I stopped short. Standing squarely in front of the door was an ox-headed demon.
Head lowered, it stood with folded arms. The heavy bovine head lolled forward in an attitude of boredom that would have been laughable in a less ferocious creature. Frantically, I pushed back into the wall, feeling the resistance as I forced myself into the brick. My thoughts were whirling like a storm of paper fragments. Why was it here? And why hadn’t I felt the same warning sense of oppression I had experienced before? I could make the excuse that it was only one demon whereas last night the street had been full of spirits, but I couldn’t fool myself. My awareness was dimming; every encounter with the dead drew me closer to them. I felt sick.
The demon stood motionless, like a figure carved from a massive tree trunk. There is a kind of wild ox called the
seladang
in the Malayan jungles, which stands taller at the shoulders than the height of a man and weighs more than a ton. A
seladang
is one of the few creatures that can kill a tiger. I had never seen a live one, but once, at the Chinese apothecary’s, there had been a set of sweeping horns brought in by a hunter. Now, looking at the ox-headed demon, I guessed that its tines were even larger than the ones I had seen. But the face beneath them was no mild animal countenance. There was a mixture of cunning and ferocity in the red eyes, a manlike glitter that made me shiver.
As I watched this unwelcome doorkeeper, another demon appeared around the corner.
“Any news?” said the first.
“All clear. Did you go in?”
“Too many spell papers. Besides, only her body’s left.”
My pulse fluttered, a frantic moth. The thought that such creatures were looking for me made me feel faint with terror.
“You stick around for a change. I’m going on patrol.”
They switched places with grunts and a clash of armor.
“Don’t let her slip by you.”
“Speak for yourself! Still, I don’t understand how
he
knew she was gone. Never had to post a guard before.”
“No idea. Suddenly last night he’s in a froth. ‘Is she still there?’ he says, all mincey and twitchy.”
I pressed the knuckles of my hand against my mouth. So Lim Tian Ching had, indeed, heard my cry of surprise last night.
“I almost bit off his head to stop his squealing.”
They exchanged a red-eyed look. “Don’t bother. If he doesn’t complete his task, he’s ours anyway, not that he knows anything about it.”
The other demon yawned, displaying a gaping maw and a set of razor-sharp teeth. “What should I do if she comes back?”
“Why, make sure she doesn’t leave again of course! She’ll come back; they all do.”
“And her body?”
“The old woman’s doing a good job. It should last. Nothing wrong with the body.”
“What if she doesn’t come back?”
“Gets lost you mean? Then her spirit will shrivel up. Even if she does come back, she won’t fit anymore. Be like a dried bean rattling around in a pod.”
“Best find her, then.”
The first demon strode away as its replacement settled in front of the door. My stomach clenched. I couldn’t go back into the house now. Better to remain at large, I thought, as I waited for the demon to relax its guard. It seemed more alert than its predecessor, however, and stood upright, scanning the street and the houses around. I was beginning to wonder what to do when the front door opened.
