by CarrieVS » Sat Feb 09, 2019 5:42 pm
They don't find a great deal from the records that they didn't already know about the Huis. Hui Jiao is heir to his father, the magistrate, and his chief administrator. His twin Hui Qiao is sought by many suitors, but so far none have been successful - some indeed have been most unfortunate, having died of illness after attempting to court her.
"A most tragic coincidence," Baozi remarks with a sideways look. Perhaps is is nothing more than that, but in the circumstances he wouldn't be entirely sure of it.
There is a little more to learn about the cult of the Forest God. It seems it's a relic from the distant past, of the worship of places and other spirits, besides ancestors. Baozi remarks a little on the apparent similarity with the nature worship of his Di ancestors, and the magic that shamans are capable of by calling on animal spirits.
There are four different stories about the Forest God. The first says that it is a tree, a giant tree producing both healing, life-extending fruit, and poisons with no cure. This, given some of what they know about the Huis, is certainly of interest.
The next story is of a dragon which can cause either floods or bountiful harvests, if angered or soothed.
Other tales tell of an exiled daughter of the Jade Emperor, seeking a man. A husband, in one version, to please her father, but to court her and fail is death. Or else, a warrior who will kill her father the Jade Emperor and claim his throne. These stories, and especially the first, they all agree seem to have an uncanny resonance with what they have just learned of Hui Qiao. But all in all this raises more questions than answers.
They leave and return to the camp outside the city walls where they have left Wenchang's soldiers.
"The magistrate will probably hear that we have been there asking about his family," Dewang warns.
Baozi nods. It almost went very badly, but he is not unduly concerned with how it did turn out. "Surely. But the Huis would learn that we are here sooner or later anyway." Especially as they now realise they are camped right outside their quarter of the city. "In war, you should make both a direct and a secret approach," he quotes from his books. "Now I had better disguise myself and see what I can find out that way."
"Now?" Wenchang asks, concerned. "Baozi, be careful."
"Now that we may have announced our presence, there is no time to lose. Besides, haste may sometimes be foolish, but long delays are never clever. I will go and prepare my disguise and then slip away quietly - I can't talk to you afterwards, I mustn't be seen with you if I'm not to arouse suspicion." That is not the whole truth.
"You must take one of the potions," Wenchang insists, but Baozi shakes his head,
"That's no good. We may not be ready to move against them within a day, but we can't wait a whole week, so if I take the potion now I can't be protected when we'll need it most. I promise, I will not be recognised. I will be in less danger than if I stayed with you, looking like myself."
He bids his brothers farewell and disappears into his tent, where he divests himself of his sword and kneels on the floor to meditate and pray. Minutes later, a small brown tabby cat slips out of the tent and darts for a clump of tall weeds he had previously noticed and marked out for this purpose.
He freezes, crouched low to the ground, and looks around. No sign that anyone has noticed. He trots quickly to the next bit of cover, and looks again. One more time, and he is clear of the camp and can move freely.
He is careful not to look too purposeful as he moves through the city. It is a delicate business - he must let the cat behave like a cat, to avoid any possibility of suspicion, while his true self must keep his focus and think like a human. But he is well practised.
He jumps onto walls and runs along the tops of fences, even sometimes roofs: good vantage points, as well as the natural path of a cat. When a feline resident challenges the newcomer, he stops to spit defiant curses before contemptuously turning his back and moving on. No time for fighting, only to demonstrate that he is not afraid. The rival is sufficiently impressed or sufficiently cautious not to rush him from behind. At another spot, he sits to wash his face in front of a tied dog which pulls at its rope, barking, but cannot reach him. Two children point him out and laugh, and he stalks by them with a dignified purr and a tail raised in greeting - just out of their fingers' reach. He has already resolved not to allow anyone to touch him, remembering Dewang's discovery. However unlikely magicians these little ones might be, there is no particular advantage in making an exception.
But all the time he is keeping eyes and ears open. Listening for the name Hui in conversation, or for his brothers' and his names, or the captured men's, or even Liang Ju or Dr Hua. Watching for anything that might indicate where two prisoners are being hidden. As a cat he can go freely through gardens and stare at anything - or anyone - he is curious about. Even if he is so bold as to peer into windows or try to enter open doors, it is only the natural impudence of a cat, perhaps to be cursed at or have to dodge a thrown object, but not suspected.
A Combustible Lemon wrote:Death is an archaic concept for simpleminded commonfolk, not Victorian scientist whales.