Chapter 122 — The Altar

Ming Li turned and glanced at it. The monkey had its mouth open and tongue out, gasping for breath, yet its paws still clutched two wine sacks tightly. He stared a moment, then after a moment shook his head and turned away.

Tu Magu gestured toward the altar and said, "Come with me."

Ming Li nodded and said, "Thank you."

Tu Magu smiled and stepped first into the Miao altar; Ming Li followed behind him and went in as well.

The moment they entered the altar, a gloom settled over them, utterly different from the bright, sunlit world outside. Whether the great shaman had given some instruction, Ming Li could not tell, but along the whole way, neither he nor Tu Magu saw anyone else in the altar.

Xiaobai was brimming with wine, and Ming Li's heart was heavy with care; neither paid heed to their surroundings. Only Little Grey followed behind them, dragging its two great wine sacks, hiccuping every little while, its monkey eyes darting curiously this way and that.

In the gloomy altar, here and there upon the stone walls, hints of red appeared, as though they had been smeared with fresh blood. And in the corners of the stone walls there were often skulls of wild beasts, grim and menacing ornaments.

Little Grey gave a couple of "chi chi" cries, as if uneasy, and quickened its steps to keep close to Ming Li—though the wine sacks in its paws remained tightly held and unlet go.

They met no obstacle along the way, and soon came to the deepest part of the altar, to the stone chamber where the great shaman dwelt.

Ming Li suddenly frowned. Though his heart was somewhat tense at this moment, the chill breath emitted by the Blood-Devouring Pearl within his body had, all unawares, begun to stir. Within this stone chamber there seemed to be some mysterious, unfathomable power that had provoked the Soul-Devourer.

Tu Magu turned and said to Ming Li, "Here we are. The great shaman is inside. Let us go in."

Ming Li nodded and followed Tu Magu into the stone chamber, and at once saw the stooped figure seated before the fire, its back to them.

Tu Magu motioned for them to wait, then went forward himself and halted at the place where he had stood before, saying with great respect, "Great shaman, they have come."

The great shaman's aged voice rose slowly, and what reached Ming Li's ears was, unexpectedly, fluent and impeccable Central Plains speech: "Bring them over. Tu Magu, there is nothing more for you here. You may go."

Tu Magu assented, turned to Ming Li, and said, "Then you may speak with the great shaman. I will go out first."

Ming Li nodded to him and said earnestly, "Chieftain, truly, thank you."

Tu Magu smiled and said, "It is nothing." With that he glanced again at Xiaobai in the crook of Ming Li's arm, thinking to himself that for such a woman to hold her liquor so prodigiously was truly inconceivable. With this thought he slowly walked out.

After Tu Magu's figure had vanished, Ming Li turned and looked ahead.

That stooped back flickered ceaselessly in the firelight, now lit, now shadowed, faintly unreal, steeped in mystery.

He was hesitating over how to begin his plea when the great shaman's voice rang out.

"Young man, come here."

Hearing that aged voice, Ming Li felt a sudden stir of respect. He assented, and supporting Xiaobai, walked slowly forward. Some six feet behind the great shaman he hesitated, then did not go farther, but stood where he was.

Little Grey came up dragging its two great wine sacks, keeping close at Ming Li's heels, its three eyes ceaselessly peering this way and that, surveying the surroundings, until at last its gaze fell upon the strange stone image of the Hound God ahead, and there it stayed, staring without cease.

"Sit," the great shaman's aged voice said quietly.

Ming Li sat as told. Xiaobai could no longer stand steady, and the wine seemed to be rising in her; she looked very much inclined to sleep. Unconsciously she leaned against Ming Li, rubbed her head twice against his shoulder, and sank into deep slumber.

As for Xiaohui, it seemed the quiet of the stone chamber had gotten to him too; he hardly dared breathe. He sat down quietly beside Xiaobai, set the two wineskins at his side, stealthily picked one up, brought it to his lips, and took a sip. His monkey eyes rolled toward the figure of the Great Shaman.

"You came looking for me—what is it that you want?" The Great Shaman still faced the fire and did not turn his head.

Ming Li said, "Great Shaman, it is a friend of mine. Her two souls and seven spirits have been scattered; only a single soul remains, and it has been this way for a full ten years now—as if she were a dead woman. I have heard that you possess a wondrous art of restoring souls, and that it is just the thing to save her. Great Shaman, you must, must save her…"

By the end of his words, his voice seemed to be trembling.

Ten years of sorrowful waiting, of bitter searching—all of it seemed to surge up into his heart in that moment.

The Great Shaman did not speak but kept his silence, and the stone chamber fell into stillness, save for the fire before him, crackling and burning, flaring and dimming by turns.

After a long while, the Great Shaman broke the silence. "Your friend—how did she come to have this affliction?"

Ming Li hesitated, then said slowly, "Ten years ago I was contending in magic with… an enemy. His cultivation was unfathomable; he struck down with an immortal sword of immense power, and I had no strength to resist. She—she did not spare her own life. She burned up all her vital essence and blood and fused it into her three souls and seven spirits, and only thus was I saved; but she herself became…" His voice caught for a moment, and he paused for quite a while before continuing: "But fortunately she had on her a rare treasure, the Hehuan Bell. At the critical moment it held back one of her souls and drew it into the bell, and only thus was there a thread of hope. Great Shaman, I beg you, save her."

The Great Shaman's back, in the firelight, suddenly seemed to grow a shade older. Slowly he said, "This friend you speak of—is she of the Demonic Sect?"

Ming Li was startled. He had feared the Demonic Sect's ill repute and so had not dared to say so plainly; he had not expected that the Great Shaman, on hearing it once, would come straight out with it. As he stood there alarmed and uncertain, the Great Shaman's aged voice went on: "She must be a woman! And the spell she used—it is the secret 'Spell of Foolish Love' handed down within the Demonic Sect, is it not?"

Ming Li was greatly astonished, both alarmed and overjoyed—alarmed that this old man in the depths of a gloomy altar at the southern border's edge should prove a recluse of uncommon gifts; overjoyed that the greater his powers, the greater the hope of saving Bi Li.

He paid no more heed to anything else and nodded again and again. "The Great Shaman's eyes are indeed discerning—it is just so. Yet though the world slanders the Demonic Sect greatly, this friend of mine is truly kind at heart beyond measure. I beg you, Great Shaman, to work your wondrous healing hand and save her this once!"

The Great Shaman's shoulders seemed to stir slightly, and amid the sound of the burning fire there seemed to come a faint sigh—a sigh faintly bitter, with a hint of grief in it.

"You orthodox and demonic sects of the Central Plains—to a wild man of these borderlands like me, there is no difference between them, no stake in the matter. You need not worry on that account."

Ming Li was overjoyed and was about to say something when the Great Shaman went on: "That wondrous art of restoring souls you speak of—I do know a little of it. But whether I can save your friend, of that I am not certain…"

Ming Li's heart quivered, and his eyes grew hot. After ten years, here and now at last, amid layer upon layer of darkness, he had glimpsed a faint glimmer of hope.