Kim Stanley Robinson by The Years Of Rice;Salt

Author:The Years Of Rice;Salt
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-08-12T17:24:58+00:00

TWO: The Remembering

Kang Tongbi received the visitor in the rooms off the front courtyard devoted to entertaining guests, and sat watching him closely as he explained who he was, in a clear if strangely accented Chinese. His name was Ibrahim ibn Hasam. He was a small, slight man, about Kang's height and build, white-haired. He wore reading glasses all the time, and his eyes swam behind the lenses like pond fish. He was a true hui, originally from Iran, though he had lived in China for most of the Qianlong Emperor's reign, and like most long-term foreigners in China, had made a lifelong commitment to stay there.

"China is my home," he said, which sounded odd with his accent. He nodded observantly at her expression. "Not a pure Han, obviously, but I like it here. Actually I am soon moving back to Langzhou, to live among people of my faith. I think I have learned enough studying with Liu Zhi to be of service to those wishing for a better understanding between Muslim Chinese and Han Chinese. That is my hope, anyway."

Kang nodded politely at this unlikely quest. "And you have come here to ... ?"

He bowed. "I have been assisting the governor of the province in these reported cases of ... "

"Soul-stealing?" Kang said sharply.

"Well. Yes. Queue-cuttings, in any case. Whether they are a matter of sorcery, or merely of rebellion against the dynasty, is not so very easy to determine. I am a scholar for the most part, a religious scholar, but I have also been a student of the medical arts, and so I was summoned to see if I could bring any light to bear on the matter. I have also studied cases of possession of the soul. And other things like that."

Kang regarded him coldly. He hesitated before continuing. "Your eldest son informs me that you have suffered some incidents of this kind."

"I know nothing about them," she said sharply. "My youngest son's queue was cut, that I am aware of. It has been investigated with no particular result. As for the rest, I am ignorant. I sleep, and have woken up a few times cold, and not in my bed. Elsewhere in the household, in fact. My servants tell me that I have been saying things they don't understand. Speaking something that is not Chinese."

His eyes swam. "Do you speak any other languages, madam?"

"Of course not."

"Excuse me. Your son said you were extremely well-educated."

"My father was pleased to educate me in the classics along with his sons."

"You have the reputation of being a fine poet."

Kang did not reply, but coloured slightly.

"I hope I shall have the privilege of reading some of your poems. They could help me in my work here."

"Which is?"

"Well--to cure you of these visitations, if such is possible. And to aid the Emperor in his inquiry into the queue-clippings."

Kang frowned and looked away.

Ibrahim sipped his tea and waited. He seemed to have the ability to wait more or less indefinitely.

Kang gestured to Pao to refill his tea cup.

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