Chapter 121 — Strong Liquor
劍問蒼天 · Page 4 of 8
Tu Magu said, "From what they say, it is a very strange affliction. It seems a person's souls have been all but wiped away, nine parts of ten—"
The great shaman's figure in the firelight suddenly gave a shudder.
Tu Magu went on, "The man said that a master once instructed him that such a case could be cured only by the rare art of soul-summoning. He does not know from where he heard it, but he says that you, Great Shaman, may possess this art, and so he has come to beg your aid."
Tu Magu slowly finished. The great shaman made no response, his figure utterly still, and what passed in his mind none could tell.
The flames leapt up and sank again, devouring the wood. Tu Magu waited a long while, and still the great shaman did not speak. At last, hesitantly, he said, "Great Shaman, then I... shall I go refuse them and send them away at once?"
The great shaman remained silent, saying not a word.
Tu Magu slowly turned and made for the door. But just as he was about to leave the stone chamber, the great shaman's voice sounded once more.
This time even he could tell that the ever-mysterious and wise great shaman seemed to have spoken only after long and tangled thought.
"You... bring them up."
Ming Li could not keep his hand from clenching, then slowly opening again. With a start he realized that his palm was slick with sweat from anxiety.
How long had it been since he had felt such agitation and such hope? With mounting unease, Ming Li kept gazing toward the altar halfway up the mountain. But the old man had been gone a long while and still had not returned.
Could it be that the great shaman in the altar would not heal an outsider?
Or had he done something wrong again?
Ming Li could not keep from thinking so, and even his heart began to beat faster and faster.
Xiaobai stood to one side, her gaze on Ming Li's face, watching this man whose impatience he could not hide from his eyes. That faint, veiled depth of feeling seemed to be carved upon his face.
She gave a soft sigh and turned her head away.
The Miao onlookers were no longer as many as at first. After all, they had waited so long, and the chief had gone into the altar and not come down, and there was no word of what was to be done with these two strangers. A good many had drifted away.
Yet because Xiaobai was so beautiful, many young Miao men still lingered nearby, looking at her boldly and talking and laughing loudly—no doubt about her beauty.
As for the monkey little Hui, he had at some point leapt down from Xiaobai's shoulder and run to the riverbank, where he crouched beside the clear stream watching the fish dart among the gaps in the stones. Now and then he lunged forward, reaching out to catch one. But the fish were sly and slippery, darting this way and that out of his grasp and splashing him all over.
Little Hui did not mind. He drew back his hand and waited patiently. After a while the water grew calm and the fish swam back, and little Hui, seizing his chance, lunged again. And so it went, round after round; he was utterly absorbed in the game and never tired of it.
At the foot of the mountain the crowd gradually dispersed, and calm returned around them.
Tu Magu still had not returned. Ming Li grew more and more anxious, and several times he was tempted to charge up the mountain, burst into the altar, and seize the great shaman and beg him properly. But each time the image of Bi Li rose before him, and he forced the impulse down.
The taste of waiting was a torment.
The anxiety that now showed plainly on his face was seen not only by Xiaobai; the Miao warriors saw it too and exchanged glances among themselves. In truth, they were greatly puzzled.
It was only a question to be asked—why should it take so long? Could it be that the chief and the great shaman had some other important matter to discuss?