"Everyone asks me that," Wen said. "Invariably the people who ask are people who do not, in fact, have their ancestors interrupting their business, their swimming, their drinking, their eating and even their—well, their courtship—with demands to burn incense and toss bits of pork at a bloody altar!"
"No need to be testy," Wu said. "I was just curious."
"Perhaps you don't understand the problem," Wen said. "But in my, ah, line of work it can be extremely dangerous to suddenly find oneself accountable to dozens of cranky old men, all of whom will invariably choose a vitally important moment to complain about the fact that you haven't stuck a hot poker into some poor turtle lately."
"Nobody uses oracle bones anymore," Wu said, so softly that Wen almost missed it.
"That's what I said, the last time I saw them done. But this is not the point. The point is that I only have two choices. I can either get rid of these ancestors, or I can spend the rest of my life trying to guess how they'll react to anything I decide to try to do. If I choose the honorable course I'm going to wind up like a dog chasing his tail."
"Believe it or not, I understand you perfectly," Wu said. "I will do what I can to help you finish reading the scroll."
"Thank you," said Wen. "You are a gentleman and a—well, a gentleman." He returned to the scroll. "This should be easy," he muttered to himself.
"So do it." The voice was that of Number One Grandfather. Wen looked up from the scroll, and saw the old men clustered around him. Wu, just a few paces away, was scarcely visible—a distant peak seen through fog. Wen prepared himself for an assault, but the old men just stood there. Watching him.
Wen lifted the scroll. It would be easier if they would just say something. "What did you say happens to them when I finish reading this?" he asked.
"I've never been sure," Wu said. "The scholar who taught it to me claimed the ancestors were banished to one of the hells, but the scroll itself doesn't exactly say."
"Hells?" Wen lowered his hands. "Oh." Well, they deserved it. "I suppose—"
He handed the scroll back to Wu. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought I could do it. But I like—liked my father. Even if he never really stood up for himself. I certainly don't want to banish him to a hell just because some of our ancestors are horrible persons."
"Don't you dare talk about us that way," Number One Grandfather said, smacking Wen on the head. "I warned you what would happen if you consorted with this sort of mad, evil scholar."
"Oh, gods," Wen said, rubbing his head.
Wu pushed the first scroll back at Wen. "Read this, quickly."
Once quiet had returned to the room, Wu smiled sadly at Wen. "I am sorry that the scroll isn't to your taste," he said. "I am not that surprised, however."
"You aren't?"
"I couldn't make myself use it either."
Wen stared at the man. "You have grandfather trouble?" Well, it might explain the premature aging and the distracted air Wu always carried around with him. That was a horrible thought. "How long?"
"Two years. And unlike you, I rigorously perform the rituals. It's just that nothing seems to please them. I think they really wanted me to stay in my government job—though none of them ever said as much to me, and it was their constant complaining that led me to quit."
Wu started tidying the mess Wen's grandfathers had made. "How many grandfathers do you have?"
"I don't know. I never thought that counting them was a justifiable use of my time." Wen thought for a moment, tallying. "I suppose there are thirty or forty of them. A lot, anyway."
Wu smiled the same sad smile. "Your family is relatively young, then," he said. "My family was founded during the Jin dynasty." Wen had never considered history to be all that worth remembering. Seeing the expression on his face, Wu smiled again. "That's over a thousand years," he said. "I am entertaining a hundred and forty-two grandfathers."
Despite his own recent experience, Wen whirled around. "Are they here?" he asked.
Wu sighed. "Oh, yes," he said.
"We need a drink," Wen said.
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