"What made you think of it?" Wu hadn't stopped smiling since Pocapetl had moved the jars into the very back of the storage room.
"Sheer desperation, I'm ashamed to say. I only thought of it because I'd been forced to abandon the things I normally depend on. It's funny, Wu: I was angry that my grandfathers simply expected to run my life because that was the traditional thing to do." He picked up his cup. "And then I resorted to the same sort of traditional thinking in trying to deal with my problem. Even though I always prided myself on not being like everyone else."
He poured for Wu. "Your hell-spell is what always gets used when ancestors become unruly, Wu—is that not correct?"
"Well, of course. It must satisfy most people; otherwise, how would it have become a tradition?"
"How indeed? I wonder how often it actually is used? Not often, I'll wager, given how permanent its results are. And yet, somehow, nobody has ever tried to come up with a different way of dealing with this issue."
Pocapetl returned and sat with them. "The old spirits should be safe enough back there," he said. "I don't think that wish has ever been used to preserve this sort of spirits, though."
"We have made something new, then," Wen said, raising his cup to the innkeeper. "Perhaps," he said to Wu, "it took friendship with a barbarian to let me truly see that my world is bigger than the one my grandfathers lived in."
"If I am to be honest," Wu said, "I must admit that thinking about what we have done disturbs me more than a little. It is sudden, strange—alien."
He took a long drink. "So I shall simply have to accustom myself to not thinking about it." He stretched, seemingly younger now than he'd been even moments ago. "It is so quiet now! I can hardly wait to return to my books. And if there is ever anything I can do for you, my good friend," he said to Wen, "you have but to ask."
Wen was about to ask if Wu had any practical advice to offer in the way of stealing back a lifetime's worth of treasure when a chill sped through him. For a moment all he could do was stare at the scholar.
"Is something wrong?" Wu asked.
"I was just wondering," said Wen. His voice sounded very far-away in his ears. "Could you explain to me why, if my father is dead, I wasn't able to see his ghost with all of the other ancestors today? He died days ago. So where is his spirit?"
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