ericlustbader.the ninja-第19章
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'She was of porcelain； this doll； white…faced； dressed elegantly in the bushi fashion。 Her eyes stared at me and I could not look away。 〃Buy me；〃 they said。
'The shopkeeper wrapped her up for me in a silken cloth and I took her home。 And； as I was unwrapping her； she began to speak。 Her voice was imperious and manding and very； very firm。 She was obviously a lady of a high house。
'It was Itami and she said that we must e to her。 She said that we must leave Singapore and e to Tokyo。'
'Have you ever met Itami？' the Colonel asked。
'No。'
'Did Tsuko ever show you a picture of her？'
'No。'
'Yet you are certain that this doll in your dream was Itami。'
'It was Itami； Denis。'
He leaned forward at last and took her hands in his as he had longed to do for some time。 Her long nails； he saw today； were lacquered deep scarlet。 He traced their satiny smoothness for a moment； savouring the feeling。 'We will go to Japan； Cheong。 To Tokyo。 We will meet Itami； just as your dream said。'
The smile that spread across her face was like the rising of the sun。 'Oh； yes； Denis？ This is really true？'
'It is really true。'
〃Then tell me why； for my spirit is happy and cares not but my mind； my mind cries out to know。'
The day before they left； she took him to see So…Peng。
He lived outside the city； to the north…west； in a village of oiled paper and bamboo where no Westerner had ever before set foot。 It was not on any map of the region that the Colonel had ever seen。 In fact； when Cheong had told him of the location； he had laughed； saying that their destination would be naught but the middle of a mangrove swamp。 Nevertheless； she was undeterred and he eventually acquiesced to her wish。
It was Sunday and Cheong insisted that he must not wear his uniform。 'This is most vital；' she had informed him and as he donned his wide…lapelled cream linen suit； white silk shirt and navy regimental tie； he felt somehow spectacularly naked： a daub of crimson in an otherwise emerald jungle； the bull's…eye in an unmissable target。 For her part； Cheong wore a white silk dress； embroidered with sky…blue herons； mandarin…collared； floor…length。 She looked a dream。
There was brilliant sunlight as they left the city； the heat washed over them in slippery waves。 A listless breeze brought with it the foetid stench of the mangrove swamps but always from their left。 Twice they were obliged to stop； standing perfectly still as long black and silver vipers writhed obliquely across their path。 The first time this happened； the Colonel made a move to kill the serpent but Cheong's firm hand upon his wrist deflected him from his purpose。
Far away； yet seeming as close to them as the flamboyantly painted backdrop to some stage play； the eastern horizon was fairly choked with dark grey clouds piling themselves into the sky like ungovernable children pyramiding themselves dangerously。 Above； the sky was a peculiar yellow； no blue was anywhere to be seen； and now and again silent white lightning flickered and forked through the grey； turning its softness for moments to marble。 It was difficult to believe that it was so calm and tranquil here where they walked up the winding road； rising along the spine of a sprawling hillock。
Singapore had long since dropped from sight and； like a ship's anchor sent overboard； it seemed to be absolutely gone； part of another world which they had stepped out of and； passing through some invisible barrier； now found themselves in a land quite apart。 At least mat was how it seemed to the Colonel on that magical afternoon； how it came to him again and again throughout his life in dreams during the mornings' drowsy early hours。
On the far side of the forested hillock； all indications of the road they had been following disappeared and not even the semblance of a path through the foliage presented itself。 Yet Cheong seemed to have no difficulty at all in reorienting herself and； taking his hand； guiding them to the village of So…Peng。
It lay in a leafy shallow hollow with the beginnings of a basalt mountain at its back； a natural barrier behind which； perhaps； only the stormy sea lay。
They came upon one house that seemed in all respects similar to those around it and； having climbed its three or four wide wooden steps up from the mud of the streets； now stood upon its front porch； wide as a veranda in the old South of America； covered against the torrential rains and the baking sun of the seasons。 Here Cheong bade Denis remove his shoes even as she was doing。
The front door opened and they were ushered into the house by an old woman with steel…grey hair； elegantly coiffed； dressed in a long silk robe the colour of swirled ash。 She put her hands together in front of her breasts and bowed to them。 They returned the gesture and； as she stood upright and smiled at them； the Colonel saw that she had no teeth。 Her face was lined； to be sure； but the flesh still retained a hint of the vitality and beauty that it had obviously radiated in youth。 Her black almond eyes were as luminous as lanterns； shining with the inquisitive innocence of the little girl from out of the past。
Cheong introduced the Colonel。 'And this is Chia Sheng；' she said without otherwise identifying her。
Chia Sheng laughed； staring at the Colonel's bulk； and shook her head from side to side as if to say； 'What can one do with young people today？' She shrugged her thin shoulders and clucked her tongue sharply against the roof of her mouth。
Cheong； the Colonel noted； spoke only Mandarin and； without being told in so many words； he was aware that he should do the same。
They were in a room of some considerable size。 No other house he had been in Singapore； not even the main house of the estate bordering the mangrove swamps that had once been his； could boast of such space。 The outside facade； he saw； had little relevance once one was inside。
More odd； however； was the fact that this room was covered in tatamis … Japanese reed mats of a specific size by which all rooms in traditional Japanese houses were measured。 But more surprises were in store for the Colonel。
Chia Sheng led them wordlessly through this first room； sparsely furnished with low lacquered tables and cushions and little else； down a short dimly lit hallway。 Its far wall consisted of an enormous piece of jade so heavily carved that it became a latticework。 In its centre was a round doorway known； the Colonel had somewhere heard； as a moon gate。 These existed on the mainland of China in the houses of the very wealthy during the latter half of the nineteenth century。
Across the moon gate's opening a long bolt of silk hung from a bamboo pole laid crosswise。 It was grey。 Embroidered upon it was a royal…blue wheel…and…spoke pattern。 This seemed oddly familiar to the Colonel； and for long minutes he racked his brain until he recalled that he had seen the self…same bolt of cloth reproduced in a ukiyo…e print by Ando Hiroshige。 It was one of the Fifty…three Stations of the Tokoido series； he could not remember the title of the print in question。 However； it had shown the design to belong to a travelling daimyo。 Another mystery。 The Colonel shrugged inwardly as Chia Sheng led them through the moon gate； white shot with black and green。
They found themselves in a room only a little smaller than the first。 On three sides were folding screens of exquisite manufacture； dark colours ing to vibrant life； passing through the years as if they were but veils of smoke。
Scents now invaded his nostrils； the chalkiness of charcoal； the muskiness of incense； and there were others； subtler； delicate cooking…oil； tallow and still others impossible to define。
'Please；' Chia Sheng said； leading them past a low red lacquered table。 Freshly cut flowers in a bowl spread themselves at its centre。 They disappeared between the ends of two of the screens； which revealed a doorway of blackness； as if it had been cut out of the heart of a piece of onyx。
'The stairs；' Chia Sheng murmured and they ascended。 It was a narrow spiral staircase with room enough to climb in single file only。
The stairwell debouched at length upon a kind of tower which struck the Colonel more as a garret。 A gr
