The Book of Bones (18 page)

After some time in one of the waiting rooms around the courtyard we were allowed to walk through three more courtyards till we came to a building carved so heavily with beasts it looked as if it was writhing with life. Large horn lanterns hung from balconies covered with red silk and jade amulets. It was most wonderful—all of us were awestruck for we had never seen anything so exquisite in its man-made beauty before. I began to have an inkling of why the Chinese were so very proud of their ancient culture. These sights—gardens of frangipane and wisteria, golden pagodas, weeping willows trailing into brooks—were truly magnificent. To think that such wonders were created while us Britons were living in mud huts.

“Still, you've caught up recently,” Waldo whispered to me with a smile, almost as if he could read my mind. I think he was overjoyed to have been released from his job as a chair bearer. “Give me one of the Great Brunel's steam engines any day!”

If China was one of the great civilizations of the past, no one could argue that my small island's inventions were the new wonders of the world.

While my eyes took in these splendid sights, my head was somewhere else altogether. Blood pounded before my eyes. We were lunatic to come here to the Imperial
home, but even more terrifying was what we would learn.

Soon a sentence of death would be pronounced. If it was Rachel, or Waldo, what could I do or say? If it was any of my friends. Underneath was the pulse of sheer terror—what if I was dying? What if
I
was
dying
?

While Mandarin Chao and Aunt Hilda went away to await an audience with the Empress, we were shown by three eunuchs to yet another waiting room. Time, I could see, crawls in the Forbidden City. People think it a positive honor to be kept waiting for three or four hours for an audience with a great lord.

We were lucky today. After an hour, during which Waldo and Isaac became terribly fidgety, another of those half-men known as eunuchs came to show us the way to the herb doctor's rooms. The chamber was lined with shelves of glass jars, dried roots resembling strange contorted heads, mushrooms, herbs, stalks, mummified seahorses. Even stranger were those jars filled with viscous liquid, in which floated things indescribable. Those rubbery red slivers were perhaps tongues, over there dried crickets hung in yellow fluid. Remembering the extraordinary things on the menu at the feast—apes' lips, camels' humps—I shuddered. If the Chinese ate such things, the medicines they used were even odder—but perhaps no more strange than Dr. Billings's phrenology.

The healer was sitting bolt upright in a beautiful carved jade chair, his eyes closed, apparently asleep. He was an elderly man, with the same style of long pigtail and mustache as mandarin Chao, his face seamed and pitted. As he heard our footsteps his eyes opened. Irises like walnuts gleamed at us through layers of wrinkles.

Instantly we all dropped down and banged our heads on the floor. We had been given the strictest instructions to kowtow when we met the healer. Even though it hurts and makes you a little dizzy, I had given up my objections to it and was not about to argue.

We listened silently as Yin told the healer of our dilemma. I didn't know if it was last night's feast or the effect of the Baker Brothers' poison that made me feel so terrible today—weak and slightly nauseous at the same time. My aches and pains had slightly subsided since we'd left the
Mandalay
, perhaps because we'd become entangled in so many adventures that I scarcely had time to feel my own heartbeat. Now, though, I could feel every inch of my flesh. Every tingle and itch had become magnified and dreadful.

I prayed that the healer could help. The man in Shanghai had been a fool and a charlatan. Would this traditional Chinese herbalist be any better?

You may notice that I am talking as if I am sure that it was me, Kit Salter, who was poisoned. Well, I was. I had
this instinct. My aches had not been imaginary. Secretly, I think, all the others were the same. Each and every one of us convinced that he or she was the one doomed to fulfill the Bakers' mission—or die.

While Yin told the healer our story he puffed, letting out little popping noises. Then he selected Rachel. Accompanied by Yin, he took her behind a screen decorated with turquoise kingfishers and examined her. We listened to the noises coming from behind the screen—while we stared at the bottles and objects. One of the oddest was the life-size statue of a man, in dull bronze, which was impaled with hundreds of the thinnest needles. They made him look like a hedgehog.

“Urgh!” said Waldo, holding up a bottle of gray lumps floating in a yellowish liquid. “What do you imagine this is?”

“Pig's liver macerated in urine,” Isaac replied, grinning. “A very popular Chinese tonic.”

“You don't know that,” I replied uncertainly. “Anyway, I'm not going to drink that. Not after that feast.”

“Apes' lips.” Waldo shuddered in sympathy.

“What if it's the antidote?” Isaac asked, and abruptly our chatter ceased. The poisoning hung over us like a balloon full of lead, weighing down our spirits. We could not bring ourselves to talk about it more than absolutely necessary.

After that I had to wait while Waldo and Isaac were examined, as I was to be last. Finally it was my turn to go behind the screen. The doctor stood up and through Yin asked me to stick out my tongue. While I did so, he circled,
sniffing
me. That's right, sniffing, like a dog. He paid particular attention to my armpits. When I recoiled in disgust, Yin gave me such a ferocious look that I stayed as still as a lamb afterward.

Then the doctor looked at my eyes, palpated my abdomen, felt my pulse, examined my hair and so on. Every inch of my body was poked and prodded. Strange as it was, he was so thorough and had such a remote look on his face that I felt reassured. Yin, who had obviously told him we were foreigners, though he would anyway have known it at once, trusted this man. He was related to Mandarin Chao and bound to Yin's family by ties of blood and honor.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the healer indicated a white cotton-covered bed and asked me to lie down.

“No,” I said, backing away in alarm. “What for?”

“Lie down, Kit,” Yin soothed. “Healer need make more test.”

Reluctantly I did as bid, though I kept my eyes trained on the man. He was selecting a number of the long, thin needles and it dawned on me what he intended to do.

“No!” I shrieked, trying to jump off the bed. “Never.”

“Kit.” Yin held me down on the bed. Her face was calm, though her grip was amazingly firm. “This needles not hurt you. Trust me.”

“I am not going to be stuck with needles. Like … like … like,” I cast around desperately for the words. “Like a pig or a hedgehog.”

“This is medicine, Kit,” Yin murmured. “This not hurt you.”

The healer was watching us, the hint of a smile on his lips. Reluctantly I lay down. I screamed when the first needle went in, but after that managed to hold my nerve. After a while it wasn't so very painful, more of a prick than a stab. The man seemed to stick them everywhere, on my arms, legs—even my face. Then after a time he removed them and indicated that I was free to rejoin the others.

“So?” I hissed.

Yin shook her head severely. “Must not rush him.”

The others had heard my screams. Perhaps they feared the healer was actually doing away with me! When I came out Waldo rushed over, as if he was going to embrace me, before I pulled away. We all waited, fidgeting, for the man's verdict.

Finally the healer came through, having changed his robes. He began to talk, the solemn sound of his words
hanging in the air. After several sentences, Yin translated.

“Rachel first. He no see any poison in your body. He say your Qi, your life force, very strong, though you must take care good of your heart.”

My friend gasped as she heard this, her shoulders sagging with relief. I realized we were all sitting bolt upright, tense as strung wires, while we awaited our fate. As soon as Rachel relaxed, she looked over at me a little guiltily. I could tell what the look meant. She thought I was the sick one. Also, she felt guilty for being well.

“One down, three to go,” I whispered, and Isaac flashed me an odd look.

“Waldo, you have very strong Qi and strong Jing, or essence,” Yin went on. “This essence comes from your father and runs hot in your blood. The healer say you have much of energy and determination—but your Shen, or your spirit, is sometime low. Anyway, you have no poison.”

“Don't know what all that nonsense meant!” Waldo muttered, but I could tell he too was relieved. Now it was only Isaac and me.

“Isaac,” Yin continued. I could tell by the way she spoke that single word, that Isaac was fine. I didn't take in what she said about Isaac. Something about very strong Shen—but then anyone could have told you that Isaac is a brain on legs. I waited, skin crawling, heart thumping.
I waited and waited and slowly, reluctantly, Yin came round to me.

There was a look about Yin, watery, wretched, that made me not want to hear her words. Still, I
needed
to hear them, if you know what I mean.

“Kit, the healer he say your Qi marvelous. He see such strength very rare and—”

“Yes, yes,” I interrupted rudely. I had no interest in my “life force.” I knew I had plenty of spirit, thank you very much.

“But he say there is something blocking your Qi. This something a poison. It weigh on you, like small leech living in your tummy, sucking blood and food.”

“Lovely,” I said sarcastically. But my throat was so dry and hoarse I could barely utter the word.

“The healer he fear this poison it kill you. He very, very surprise, because he not know what it is. That is why he put those needle in you. He never see this poison before.”

“Can he cure me?”

Yin was silent for a moment, studying the dragons on the carpet. Then the healer, who had been so silent, intervened, talking passionately and gesticulating. He had produced a small bottle of murky liquid in his wrinkled hands. At the end of the outburst Yin spoke again.

“He say your Yin is too strong. Your Yin energy and
your Yang energy need to be balanced, but he never see such an explosion cold Yin energy. He give you this bottle of Five Poisons Wine. It contain the blood of five venomous creature: centipede, scorpion, spider, snake and toad. This will give you hot energy to help—but he say he never seen your illness before. He do not think this cure you.”

“What will cure me?” I asked.

“He not know what to do.”

“That's not good enough!” Waldo burst out furiously.

Yin hung her head. “This man a very wise healer. He know thousands of poisons. But he say he never see this one before. He say keep trying Five Poisons Wine but he be very feared.”

“That's as likely to poison Kit again as cure her,” Waldo snarled.

“Yes.” Yin nodded.

“What?” Isaac exclaimed.

“Too much of Five Poisons Wine will kill her. But it also keep her alive for now. The healer say he can see Kit is becoming worse. She dying.”

Rachel had put her arm round my shoulder and for a moment I lay limp in her embrace. Her eyes were warm and sad. For a moment I caught a glimpse of the healer's wrinkled face, his eyes a mournful reflection of Rachel's.

So everyone felt sorry for me. From now on I was
an object of pity. I sat up straight, bolt upright. “I'm not giving in. I'm going to beat this.”

Waldo had sagged, he looked shrunken, defeated. His hands twisted and turned but I could see he was at a loss. Never before had he shown so clearly that he cared.

“You see what this means, don't you?” Waldo sprung up and paced around. “This is no trick. We have no choice. We have to follow the Bakers' orders and find that Book of Bones. Kit must have that antidote at all costs!”

There was a sudden crash. The healer had dropped the book he was holding. Yin picked it up and handed it back to him.

Waldo went on: “If we don't bring it back to England in a few weeks, well …”

“You won't have the bother of my company,” I said. There was silence after my little outburst, as all my friends turned to me. But no one, it seemed, could look me in the eye. I couldn't really blame them. What was there to say?

“Don't bother to tell me how sad you are,” I said. “There's no point.”

I know I sounded self-pitying, but you'll forgive me, I'm sure, for feeling a little sorry for myself.

The weeping willow by the bridge, the glittering red pagoda, the monumental stone dragon bearing down on us—I scarcely noticed them as we were shown out of the healer's chambers by two more eunuchs. It had taken just a few hours for the beauty that had so thrilled me this morning to shrivel and go stale. Those awful pangs that I'd experienced on the
Mandalay
were back, redoubled. There was an ache in the pit of my stomach, tingling in my limbs. The pain had spread to my head, which felt as if it was loosening itself from my neck and would soon rise like a balloon into the sky.

“Pull yourself together, Kit!” I hissed to myself. My words were empty. I didn't have the strength.

The two eunuchs escorting us were young. They had bloated faces and high, chirruping voices. The one in front of us had a cringing air despite his gorgeous robes and crystal hat button, which showed he was of high rank. All the boys who served in the palace were eunuchs—from poor families—and had been spayed like cats to
ensure they did not flirt with the Emperor's hundreds of wives and concubines.

We were passing a gorgeous palace with a tiled roof that seemed to be almost lifting off the walls when I heard a yahoo. My aunt trotted into view, accompanied by Mandarin Chao.

“How did the visit to the doctor go?” she asked. But no sooner had I begun to tell her when she shushed me. “Look!” she commanded. “There's a sight few Englishmen will ever see, the Empress Dowager.”