Chapter Eighteen #3
Lim stepped in, taking hold of the reins. ‘I think it best we move on.’
He gathered the leather, but Longma stretched his neck, mouth open and the bit loose between his teeth.
‘Come on, stupid damned horse.’
‘Master Lim, there is no need for that. I’d like to help you reach the prince.’
Lim scowled at him. The farmer gave him a sense of being seen through; clear as a mountain lake, with his secrets the obvious stones settled on the bed.
To make matters worse, Lim’s stomach betrayed him with a shockingly loud growl.
‘Here, please have these. You’ll get nowhere half starved.’
In what seemed the blink of an eye, Ren removed two seeds from the pod he held, holding out their gleaming green goodness towards Lim.
Despite himself, he hesitated. He was fond of the snack; convenient in the workshop when he was too obsessed with a creation to stop for dinner.
‘Just one,’ he muttered.
Lim dug his thumbnail in, peeling off the thick green skin with practised ease.
Hunger overwhelmed him, and he didn’t bother to remove the bitter stem, popping the intact seed into his mouth and chewing down.
He braced for the nose-wrinkling sensation to arrive, only to relax a moment later into a groan he could not contain.
‘By the Seven Maidens, these are superb.’ He took the other still offered on Ren’s open palm and crunched down into a startling pleasantness; sweet but not too much so, and an almond-like creaminess to the texture. ‘These are like no other I’ve tasted.’
Ren shrugged but was clearly happy with Lim’s reaction. ‘I tend to the waters with great care, and I swim among my lotus every day. But my greatest secret is that I have a very special song I sing to them, to encourage them along.’
Lim darted him a glance, expecting he was being goaded again. But Ren appeared very serious about his revelation. ‘A song?’
‘Yes. I’m a farmer, not of the land but of the ponds and river and seas.
’ His smile was like the sun peeking from behind clouds.
He pulled a seed from the pod, and peeled it between the fingers of one hand so quickly Lim blinked and it was done.
Ren offered it to Longma, and the gelding parted velvet lips, taking the offering delicately from between Ren’s fingers.
Lim swore he saw the horse’s eyes roll right before its sides heaved in a contented sigh.
‘These are very fine, Master Ren.’ Lim took another when it was offered. ‘Whatever your song might be, it worked magick upon the lotus.’
Ren’s smile played at his thin lips. ‘Not all magick need be feared, wouldn’t you say?’
Lim worked at the piece of lotus caught in his teeth, cautious now. ‘I suppose not, no. But it seems to me the mere mention of it only brings harm to those who do not deserve it.’
Ren inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of such things. ‘Indeed. I should carry on with my work now, Master Song, there is red algae ready for harvest, and still much to be gathered to send to town for this evening’s feasting.’
Lim nodded, choosing not to ask how red algae, grown in saltwater, was doing so well this far from the sea. This Master Ren was a strange fellow, no doubt.
‘But I do have an idea for you. How you might get into the residence without drawing unwanted attention.’
‘Go on.’ Lim’s nerves jangled with excitement or trepidation; he couldn’t tell. He still had not recovered from Ren knowing of the slipper and hinting at its extraordinary nature. But with his belly gurgling contentedly, he found it hard to worry too much. ‘What do you suggest?’
Ren patted the gelding once more, then stepped away, moving towards the buckets of lotus pods. His braid swayed against his back, and the spill of water from its tip, like the ink dripping from a calligrapher’s brush, was undeniable.
‘It is not entirely my idea, the notion comes from the lady carp, and I am happy to assist.’
Lim spat out the last of his lotus pod. ‘A carp?’
Ren spent too long running his finger over the edge of one of the buckets. Lim was ready to shake him by the shoulders and demand a reply when he finally spoke.
‘Come now, Master Song,’ he said, soft as spring showers. ‘You are the shoe’s creator, you would have noticed the first change in your work. Some hint that they had become enchanted?’
‘Enchanted? No…’ Lim said, with a pathetic weakness.
Of course, he’d known from the moment he’d taken the shoe from the pond that his design had changed. Of course he’d noted the scales. But what, in the heavenly name of the gods, was a simple man such as himself, supposed to do with such findings?
Longma flicked his tail, catching at Lim’s cheek, snapping him from his thoughts.
‘Come now, good man. I have frightened you.’ He glanced up to find Ren standing close, holding out a bucket, this one filled with the seeds alone, their green skins already removed. ‘Take these, tell the guards at the gate that you deliver them on my behalf, Master Ren, and you’ll have no trouble.’
‘I know your name.’ But that was all Lim knew. He could barely fathom how much more there was to know of this strange, unearthly man. ‘But I do not know if I should trust you.’
‘Then the slipper shall decide for you. Now go on.’ The man smiled like a god of good fortune. ‘ And if anyone steps in your way, offer them a lotus seed. Remember that, won’t you?’
The rattle of an approaching cart disturbed the heavy quiet that lay between Lim and the farmer.
‘We’re early, we know,’ a man in the cart bellowed. ‘But they are anxious in the kitchens for your oysters and abalone.’
Ren let go of the bucket and stepped around Lim, calling out to the men. ‘Well, we cannot have an anxious kitchen on the cusp of New Year’s Eve. Head around to the warehouse, you know your way.’
There were calls of thanks and promises of special gifts for the farmer as the cart rattled down the path towards them.
‘I really must go,’ Ren said. ‘I hope we meet again, and that you have pleasing news to tell.’
Lim was eager to leave, but he hesitated as Ren bid his goodbyes. ‘How did you know of the carp?’
‘Are you sure you wish to know?’
‘Tell me.
‘Very well. You seem a hale man. Valiant, too. A wise choice on her behalf, I would say.’
‘No more riddles. Tell me of the carp.’
Ren wiped at his trousers; the watermark spread wider, and the fabric clung to his slight figure. ‘She is a guardian, a watchful ghost. A testament to the bond between mother and child. And now it falls to the living, to keep her son from a life among the cinders.’
Longma snorted, tossing his head, the horse shifting its bulk to move in between Lim and Ren. By the time Lim had given the gelding a decent shove to move him aside, the strange man with the dripping hair and astonishing words was gone.