The Silk Map (69 page)

Jewelwolf was silent.

Before long they had returned to the caldera and commenced a conference strange even among the secret annals of the Karvaks.

“The Bull Demon's fury is for the moment spent,” said Chodak the high lama, supported by Widow Zheng. “Innocence Gaunt, it seems, drained him of considerable power. And between Persimmon Gaunt and the shard of Lady Monkey, he has no more teeth.”

Steelfox looked with some pleasure at the toothless maw of the Bull Demon. Indeed, she made a point of smiling at it.

The mountain rumbled. She stopped smiling.

“Let's conclude our business briskly,” she said. “Gaunt, if you can indeed translate for me, I offer the Iron Moths a boon they may appreciate. Our lands are very flat compared to others and free of rock. It is comparatively easy for us to find stones that have fallen from space. I understand you find such alien matter delicious. We offer you fifty such stones every year for a bolt of ironsilk. We will accept ironsilk from broken cocoons. No caterpillar need volunteer for death. Sapient beings need not suffer to bring us wealth. We do ask an initial sample of ironsilk as proof of concept.”

Gaunt looked into the pommel of Crypttongue before speaking a series of buzzes and clicks. A chorus of like sounds from the Iron Moths filled the caldera.

Gaunt said, “They agree if Xia thinks it is fair.”

“I do,” said Zheng.

“Not acceptable,” said the scion of Monkey.

“What?” said Steelfox.

“The bargain was for the caterpillars, not ironsilk. I—or my better self—would like a mating pair.”

Steelfox said, “Gaunt, I suppose you had best ask.”

Gaunt buzzed, clicked, and listened. “May the pair return, unharmed, as adults?”

“On one condition,” said the stone monkey. “They lay eggs in my cavern first.”

After a moment, Gaunt said, “We are agreed.”

“Fine,” said Monkey. “This has been a lot of trouble for a little. Do not forget the time limit. I'm feeling sleepy—”

She yawned, and blurred, and turned into a crystal spine that shattered upon the stone.

“You should go,” said the high lama. She turned to Zheng. “I understand if you wish to depart now. It may be hard to leave, afterward.”

“I wanted a last great adventure, Chodak. And I got one! But now I find it was just the continuation of an adventure from an earlier life, or so I believe. Is this an adventure you wish to share?”

“It has been rather a long time since a high lama has had a consort. This will be unusual in more ways than one. But I have learned some of my limitations lately. I think an adventure is in order.”

“Then I will stay.”

Gaunt and Snow Pine and Flint embraced Zheng. Quilldrake shook her hand.

“You must go,” the high lama said, “as we must.”

“Farewell,” said Steelfox.

The two Karvak balloons departed Xembala as the sun set. Under a bright moon they said farewell to one another.

“Good luck,” Steelfox shouted across the void. “Take care of Haytham and Northwing. I loan you their services with great reluctance. But I think you will need them when navigating the mountains.”

“Farewell, Flint!” Quilldrake called beside her. “Do not become too honorable!”

“Not with a mentor like you!” Flint shouted back. “Don't fleece the Karvaks too much,” he added. “They have tempers!”

Beside him Gaunt called out, “Good luck, Steelfox! Keep an eye on that sister of yours.”

“I will help with that,” replied Katta, “so to speak. Before I track Deadfall.”

“And an ear,” said Dolma. “I will rebuild the Fraternity of the Hare. And it will have new meaning under the guidance of Princess Steelfox.”

The sky filled with the now-familiar sound of Jewelwolf's curses. Steelfox knew she had a sabercat by the tail, and even with her sister's actions exposed, Jewelwolf would remain powerful. Mother would be on Steelfox's side, as would many of the nobles. But she must fly carefully.

I am not a baatar, Father. But here, poised between Mother Earth and Father Sky, I swear to you the daughter you pushed aside will always honor your ways. All the way from Mount Mastodon to the Braid of Spice.

The travelers, clad in thick furs, had hunted their quarry for weeks through the Heavenwalk Mountains. They had never given up hope, however, for at times there flew before them a bird with three legs and blazing eyes.

At last, down yet another forlorn valley, the bird flapped excitedly. When the travelers found it they saw that the suncrow sat on the shoulder of a strange mountain-man, a pale fellow with a thick, snow-dusted beard.

One of the travelers ran to him as swiftly as she dared.

“You—you're—” she said.

“As arrogant as ever,” he said. “Yes, I am.”

She stroked his head. “There's a little gray in your hair.”

“Perhaps unavoidable. But I spent as much time outside the scroll as I could tolerate. We have been so far out of synch already, Persimmon Gaunt.”

“I would love you regardless, Imago Bone, but I am glad you thought of that.”

“I lost him, Gaunt. Lost him again.”

“So did I. I am done blaming. And you are done berating. What we are never done with is seeking.”

He nodded. “But there is someone else whose seeking is at an end.” He lifted up a scroll and gestured through the snow. “Would you like to be first?”

With trembling hands, the woman who stood behind Persimmon Gaunt removed a glove and took the scroll.

Her voice broke before she disappeared, but the listeners all agreed the word was Joy.

Wondrous Lady Monkey falls asleep in her mountain at last. It was an interesting waking, but she is exhausted now, and the next waking promises to be something special. Things are moving, and the mortals get more intriguing every day. What hasn't changed is her ego, she concedes. Oh, one day she may follow the Undetermined at last, and be a good Monkey, and maybe even journey to the West for real, to seek enlightenment in Geam, or Xembala, or some smelly fishing port on a distant shore. But for now she would rather wriggle out of her punishment than accept it, and before the day of her release she has a last trick to try.

As she closes her eyes she wishes good luck to everyone who dares to slip the knots of destiny.

Then she falls asleep to the rhythmic sound of Iron Moth caterpillars munching inexorably away at her mountain prison, moving from east to west.

“This is it? This is what they call the Dragonheat?”

“Yes. I must say I prefer to view it from up here. A sensible choice. Now, why have we come here?”

“I must decide if I announce myself to the Empire or take another path. This seemed a fitting place to ruminate.”

“You have many options. Treat with the Forbidden City or the Cardinals—”

“There is another option. . . . Did I do the right thing, Deadfall? I wonder about it sometimes.”

“We all twist and turn when considering our pasts, Innocence. On impulse I once stole from the great library of Qushkent to see what your parents would do with a magical book.”

“What did they do?”

“Nothing. They told no one. Oh, I have learned since that the
Chart of Tomorrows
is only relevant to the Bladed Isles, far to the West. But nevertheless, they selfishly said nothing to their companions. Thus I learned their true natures.”

“My parents . . . I think of all the stories my mother told. They are like dreams, dreams with names like Palmary, Archaeopolis, Swanisle. I think if one is to use power wisely, one must first understand one's dreams.”

“I do not follow you, lord.”

“No, you convey me. Take me to the land where my parents conceived me. Take me to the West.”

As in the mountains of the world outside, snow fell within the scroll. Where out there it was deathly cold, here it was invigorating. Snow Pine loved returning here, loved hugging her daughter, perhaps even loved Flint (though she trusted him about as far as she could throw a Karvak.)

“Mother—”

“Just let me hug you. It has been so long. How you've grown.”

“Mother, you've said that three times!”

“It's worth a thousand. I will not leave you again.”

“I know you did not mean to. Nor Father . . .”

Snow Pine lowered her head, but that hurt had lessened. “What is the matter with your hand?” she said. “Here, let me—” She unwrapped the bandage.

“It is nothing . . . a sort of scrape that . . . got out of hand.”

“Scrape?”

And Snow Pine stared, not knowing what to make of the sign that seemed branded upon her daughter's hand, that of three lengths of intertwined chain.

This particular road trip was kicked off by Joe Monti and Lou Anders, visualized by Kerem Beyit, mapped by Rhys Davies, fueled by the Campbell and Mountain View Public Libraries, and brought safely home by my wife Becky Willrich. I am very grateful to all. For last-minute help or reassurance, many thanks to Barry Goldblatt, James Sutter, Miriam Valencia, and Claire Koukoutsakis.

This story probably began when as a children's librarian I discovered Kathryn Ceceri's
The Silk Road: 20 Projects Explore the World's Most Famous Trade Route
. Other inspirational material included
Empires of the Silk Road
by Christopher I. Beckwith,
The Secret History of the Mongol Queens
by Jack Weatherford, and
Tibetan Civilization
by R. A. Stein. For countless visual references, the NHK/China Central TV documentary
The Silk Road
(English-language release, 1990) was invaluable. Alongside the historical inspirations were those that mixed history with imagination, particularly Wu Cheng'en's sixteenth-century Chinese classic
Journey to the West
, which I know mainly through a shortened retelling by David Kherdian,
Monkey: A Journey to the West
, and Richard Bernstein's
Ultimate Journey
, a modern attempt to retrace the quest of Hsuan Tsang, the monk whose pilgrimage to India inspired Wu. Certain aspects of the story also benefited from Huston Smith's
The World's Religions
and
The Art of Happiness
by His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler, MD. I'd be remiss in not mentioning a triple-feature filmography:
Lost Horizon
(1937),
The Man Who Would Be King
(1975), and
Raiders of the Lost Ark
(1981). Any missteps or lost hats are entirely the fault of the author.