Tiger - Jeff Stone [34]
Fu couldn't believe his ears. However, the look in the Drunkard's eyes told him that the man was telling the truth. His dizziness grew worse.
“Once a tiger has hunted a human,” the Drunkard said, “it will very likely do so again. Especially if it is wounded or lame like this one was with the spear in its shoulder. Even more so if it has a cub to feed. So you see, the Governor had no choice but to hunt down the tiger.”
Fu lowered his eyes.
“And here's something else you should know,” the Drunkard said. “The cage in which you now sit was not built to keep the tigers from getting out; it was built to keep the villagers from getting in. The plan was to destroy the mother and its cub and bring their bodies back here to throw in the cage for all to see. These villagers would tear the tigers' bodies to shreds with their teeth, they are so upset about the loss. If not for the cage, they might tear you to shreds.”
Fu lay down. He was so dizzy now that he could not sit up any longer. To think, he once considered the Governor's son lucky.
“I—I understand why they would be upset with the adult tiger,” Fu stammered. “But why kill the cub?”
The Drunkard stood up. “It is said that once a tiger has had a taste of man, it will always be a man-eater. Perhaps the cub did not bite the Governor's wife, but it saw what its mother did. The Governor did not want to take any chances.”
Fu felt nauseous. The cage was spinning fast now, and the food he had devoured earlier rose to the back of his throat. He coughed, struggling to focus on the point where the Drunkard stood. But the Drunkard was no longer there. Fu opened his mouth to say something, but the pressure on the back of his throat was too great. He coughed again. Then he shook his head and closed his eyes.
Ying crouched behind the fire he had built at the front corner of the Cangzhen compound, near the Forgotten Pagoda. He watched his shadow dance on the perimeter wall and listened closely to the sounds of the night. Ever since the young monks had fled Cangzhen, Ying had felt like he was being watched. He couldn't tell where the watcher was positioned, which could only mean one thing. There was only one person alive who could fly this close beneath his nose and not be seen.
Tonglong approached Ying from the opposite side of the large campfire.
“Greetings, sir,” Tonglong said. “I hope all is well with you this fine evening.”
Ying grunted and stood. He stared over the flames at his number one soldier. “Tell me, Tonglong—since the men seem to think you're so clever—what is the best way to catch a crane?”
Tonglong paused and leaned back on his boot heels. “A crane? You mean the large water bird? I've never hunted one—are they tasty?”
“I don't know,” Ying said, turning away. “Perhaps we will find out.”
“What do you intend to do?”
Ying took a deep breath. “I sense someone has been watching us for quite some time, and I think it is Hok—one of my former brothers.”
“One of the young monks?” Tonglong said. “Commander Woo and the men seem certain we're being watched by restless spirits.”
“Commander Woo is a superstitious fool.”
Tonglong rubbed his strong jaw. “He is what he is, Major Ying. If you want to change his mind—and the minds of the men—you'll need to catch this Hok.”
“I don't care about changing anyone's mind,” Ying scowled, pivoting around to face Tonglong. “I only want to catch Hok.”
“I see,” Tonglong said. “May I ask you a question, sir?”
Ying grunted.
“Perhaps it is because I'm Cantonese, but I'm curious about something. Hok is the Cantonese word for ‘crane'; likewise Ying is the Cantonese word for ‘eagle.' Why do you Cangzhen monks have Cantonese names? Your temple was not in Canton. Everyone in this region speaks Mandarin Chinese—including you.”
Ying frowned. “Grandmaster was from Canton. He wanted to keep the temple secret, so he gave us all Cantonese names and taught us to speak Cantonese as a second language. If we were ever away from the temple,