"Ah, gentlemen!" Wen bowed to the soldiers with what he hoped was a suitably heavenly flourish. "You're just in time to help us."
"Help you?" The soldiers' spears wobbled and waved, and their officer looked confused, or that's how Wen chose to interpret the response; it was hard to be sure, given the lacquered iron fu-dog mask the man wore. "We're here to arrest you. You're trespassing on the precincts of heaven, or hadn't you realized that?"
"There's
obviously been some mistake," Wen said with a smile. "But not by us, I'm happy to say. Our visit here is perfectly in order. And your arrival is perfectly timed to assist
us in our task. Unless," he said as
the officer goggled at him, "you think us more likely to obtain more
useful assistance from Fu Xi the ancestor god."
As the officer
examined Wen's documents, Wen took a closer look at the man—because the eyes
that had goggled at him had been both bulging and red. Sure enough, the officer wasn't wearing a dog
mask, he was a dog. Or at least he had a fu-dog's head. So did his soldiers, though their manes
weren't as impressive as the leader's.
And Wen was not in the slightest surprised that, when the officer spoke
to Wen again, his voice had a canine sort of whine to it. "I don't understand," he said. "This appears to be completely in
order. But I was told"—
"Not at all
your fault," Wen said. "There
seems to have been a consistent pattern of communication failure where this
subject is concerned. Greater personages
than yourself have been victimized or confused, believe me. The sooner we recover this individual, the
better for all concerned."
Especially me, he added to himself.
"Fu Xi cannot
help you," the officer said.
"He is sleeping and we cannot wake him."
"We're prepared
to wait," said Number One Grandfather.
"It's a very
long nap," said the officer.
"I don't think that waiting is an option for you."
"When he says
'we cannot wake him,'" Wen Xia whispered to Yin Fengzi, "does he mean
'cannot' as in 'not allowed to' or as in 'we've done everything we can and the
bugger is still unconscious'?"
"Fu Xi is a very ancient god," she whispered
back. The sound of her whisper in his
ear, Wen decided, was delicious and he wanted more of it. "He may be sleeping so deeply no one—not
even Monkey—can wake him."
"In that case,
let's hope I can persuade this officer to help us. Him, or his superior."
"Oh, I really
think we don't want to meet his superior, Xia.
Think about the sort of person—god—who has fu-dog guards."
"I'll talk to
Tiandi himself," said Wen, "if it will help me free my
father." And change my luck. He turned to the officer. "So," he said in what he hoped was
a booming and commanding voice, "do you know anything about this person,
Wen Gang, for whom we are searching?"
"I believe I
do," said the officer. "Not by
name, of course, but the description is certainly familiar."
"Well, if you
don't," Wen said, "then perhaps you can direct us to someone who—what
did you say?"
"I said, 'I
believe I do'," said the officer.
"Someone matching your description is at work in my mistress's
orchards. As I understand it he's a very
fine worker, too. It would be a shame if
we couldn't keep him because his papers are—well, I suppose they can't be bad
if they don't exist at all."
"Oh, no,"
said Fengzi softly. Wen glanced at her;
she was fluttering her hands at her hips.
Is she trying to signal me about something? Wen asked himself. No, it doesn't matter. If the gardener this dog is talking about is
Father, I need to know, and right now.
"Take me to
him," Wen said. "Immediately,
if you please." He set off,
trotting in what he assumed was the direction from which the soldiers had come.
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