Tiger - Jeff Stone [32]
Fu lowered his eyes. “I am sorry, sir. I am very truly sorry, and I wish to apologize to your son.”
“Do you, now?” the Governor replied. “And what purpose would that serve?”
“Aaah …,” Fu said, looking up. “Perhaps it will make him feel better?”
“Perhaps it will make him feel better, you say? Do you really think so?”
“I suppose so,” Fu replied. “Sure. I know it would make me feel a lot better.”
“Ah, yes,” the Governor said. “It is all about you, is it not?”
“Please, sir,” Fu said. “I only wish to apologize. That's why I came here. To apologize and to tell you about the scrolls. Also, I think I was meant to come here. The men I spoke to at the waste pile said that they wanted to get rid of Major Ying. I do, too, and I have a plan! If we use the scrolls as bait, we could—”
“Stop!” said the Governor, raising his hand. “There is no point in talking further. I have already sent messengers to Major Ying. I have promised the scrolls to him, and I am a man of my word.”
“What?” Fu cried. He grabbed the bamboo bars. “Are you crazy?”
“Watch your mouth, young man!” the Governor said, leaning forward. “Do you not realize to whom you are speaking?”
“I do … I'm sorry … it's just that you don't seem to understand … you don't realize that—”
“I only need to realize one thing,” the Governor said, turning away from Fu. “You put us in much danger. You attacked my men and my son unprovoked, and you have a habit of stealing things from important people like Major Ying. If you were to stay here, who knows what you might steal from me? Major Ying has asked for the return of his scrolls and your capture. He reports directly to the Emperor, so it is my duty to honor his wishes.”
“No!” cried Fu. “You can't! Those scrolls aren't even his! He tried to steal them from Cangzhen Temple! My temple! If you would just listen to me, you'll see that—”
The Governor spun back toward Fu. “That is enough, young man! I see only as far as the region I govern, and you bring trouble to my region. Therefore, you must go. And now, so must I.”
The Governor turned to his son. “Come,” he said. “It's time to go home, Ho.”
And with that, the Governor turned and walked away, his son at his side.
“Please, wait!” Fu cried out. “I thought you were a good man! I have more to say!”
But no one listened.
At first, Fu thought he was seeing things. Darkness had begun to settle in, and he was under a lot of stress. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. But— there it was again! Across the square a huge basket of rice seemed to move. And then it stood!
In front of the bun vendor's shop, a large, heavyset man lifted the battered remnants of an old rice basket off his head and shoulders. Fu realized he must have sat down and covered himself with it to keep dew from forming on him as night set in. Fu hadn't noticed it there before.
The big man swayed slightly. Long tangles of matted black hair hung partway down his back and forward over his face, intertwined with his long, scraggly beard. His pants and robe were filthy. The man raised his beefy arms and stretched, yawning. Then he began to stumble forward, as though drunk. He stopped several paces from Fu's cage and stood there, weaving back and forth. He stared at Fu between strands of hair. Fu thought he saw something familiar in the man's eyes, but he wasn't sure what.
Fu shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He must be seeing things.
The Drunkard spoke with a deep, gravelly voice.
“What is your name?”
“Fu.”
The Drunkard paused. One eyebrow raised up. “Who would give you the name Tiger?”
“My temple's Grandmaster.”
“Your name is Cantonese,” the Drunkard said, stumbling closer. “But Canton is very far from here. What temple are you from?”
Fu folded his arms. “What do you care?”
“What do you care that I care?”
Fu cocked his head to one side. “Why do you answer my question with a question?”
“Why are you so reluctant to answer?”
Fu leaned back, frustrated. “You talk like a monk, you filthy bum.”
“Perhaps that is because I've spent some time with monks,” the Drunkard said, smiling.
“Sure you have.”