On the Road to the Hell of Hungry Ghosts Read online

  ON THE ROAD TO THE HELL OF HUNGRY GHOSTS

  BY RICHARD PARKS

  BENEATH CEASELESS SKIES ISSUE 235

  NINTH ANNIVERSARY DOUBLE-ISSUE

  I knew that Mei Li was still not entirely comfortable in her human body. She had worn it before, certainly. For a snake-devil such transformations were extremely useful for moving freely among humans and finding prey, but those were passing needs. Now that she was in my father’s service, her role as human-in-training required wearing her human form at all times.

  “Daughter Jing,” my father, Pan Bao, said to me from the fallen log where he rested at the roadside, “by all the Courts of Heaven, what is she doing in there?”

  ‘There’ was a small copse of tallow trees we had passed on our trek to eastern Qin. After our success in the affair of the snake-devil Jianhong, His Exaltedness Governor Sun Fu had seen fit to offer our services to an associate in the east, and refusing would have been both impolite and dangerous. We had been on our way there when Mei Li had suddenly excused herself and hurried off the road and into the trees. I could tell by the way my father scratched his beard that his patience was beginning to wane.

  “Perhaps she needed to relieve herself,” I said.

  He scowled. “Has she forgotten how?”

  “It’s possible she never knew, at least in the form she currently holds.”

  Father considered. “Good point. Go see if she needs assistance.” I had almost opened my mouth to protest when he added, “That was not a suggestion.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  There was nothing for it but to follow after Mei Li into the woods. The trees were thicker than I had thought at first, but there was a path, of sorts, leading through to the other side. To my surprise, I found Mei Li standing just beyond the trees, looking out over what at first appeared to be no more than a rocky meadow, until I realized I was not looking at natural rocks but dressed stones, badly weathered and covered in lichen and weeds. Whatever structure they had originally formed was long gone, leaving nothing but these fallen stones.

  “Pan Jing,” she said without turning around. “Don’t you hear it?”

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. Just beyond the stone ruins there was a fast moving stream, and now I could hear the water tumbling over stones. Across the stream were more trees, from which came a chorus of birdsongs.

  “It’s very close,” she said.

  I had already drawn my bronze jian, blessed and imbued with multiple wards and charms against living monsters and things that death had claimed but not entirely bound. I had neither my father’s nor Mei Li’s skill in magic, but I could sense the presence of something unnatural.

  “Why did you come here?” I asked.

  “I heard it calling for help,” Mei Li said, “and came to discover the problem. It is our purpose to help people, is it not? The tenet of compassion?”

  Again, not entirely true. I mean, yes, one of the Three Jewels of the Tao was compassion, as my father would expound at great depth—and length—to anyone foolish enough to sit still for it, but in practice we asked a price for such assistance. Nor did we usually offer such services to creatures both invisible and unnatural, and I said as much to Mei Li.

  “Why not?” she asked. “Forgive me, but much of what is commonly accepted among humans is still strange to me. How does the nature of the distress and the identity of the supplicant change the tenet itself?”

  “It doesn’t,” my father said. He stood at the edge of the trees, glaring at us. “Is that what’s taking you two so long?”

  Neither Mei Li nor I had noticed his approach, so intent were we on what, though I could not see it, I knew was mere paces away and likely very dangerous.

  Mei Li bowed. “So we are obligated to be of assistance?”

  “Not at all,” Father said. “There is also the tenet of moderation, in my interpretation meaning the avoidance of extremes. Poverty is one such extreme.”

  “I don’t understand,” Mei Li said.

  I sighed. “He means, as I mentioned earlier, that we must view our ‘compassion’ in our role as devil-hunters as a service, not an obligation. We must make our living.”

  “Not quite, Sarcastic Daughter, but in this case an accurate enough assessment. The Tao is balance, and balance requires compensation. Ghosts don’t have gold or silver or even bronze. And we have employment awaiting us at journey’s end.”

  Ghosts?

  So that was what I was sensing. Ghosts were dangerous, certainly, but less so in open daylight. This one was likely hiding among the ruins of its crypt to avoid the sun’s touch. As long as we put some distance between ourselves and this place, there would be no problem.

  Father had already started back along the path to the road. “We’re wasting light. I want to be in Chengdu Village before sunset.”

  We didn’t make it, but not because of Mei Li’s delay. By evening it was clear to all of us that Father’s map was approximate at best. We appeared to be heading in the right direction, but otherwise there was no sign of Chengdu or any other village when we were finally forced to give up and stop for the night. We found shelter in a cave some distance from the road. There was a circular firepit inside to show that the cave had served the same purpose for other travelers, but it had clearly not been used in a long time. I gathered firewood while Mei Li searched the cave for any signs of danger. She had just returned when I came back with an armload of dead wood.

  “Nothing,” she said. “About a bowshot further in, the tunnel is blocked by a collapsed ceiling. Nothing larger than an insect could get through it. Pity. This place would have made a good lair.”

  “A consideration that should no longer concern you,” Father said as I dropped the firewood by the pit. “Yet still, it is good. Now we only need ward the entrance and no one will know we’re here.”

  Mei Li glanced out the entrance to the cave. “I think she will know.”

  She?

  I stopped looking for my flint and striking stone and went to stand by Mei Li at the cave mouth. “Father, I think you should see this.”

  He joined us there and saw what we saw—standing no more than thirty paces from the cave entrance was a little girl, perhaps nine years old, finely dressed in silk of an antique pattern. To any casual observer she would have passed for what she appeared to be—a pretty little girl with long hair and big, dark eyes. We, however, were not casual observers and understood immediately that we were looking at a ghost.

  “She’s the one from earlier today,” Mei Li said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Unlikely,” my father said. “Unless she is a yuān guǐ.”

  Mei Li frowned. “What is that?”

  “A ghost who harbors some grievance,” I said. “Usually when ghosts arise, they don’t stray far from where they died or were buried. Yet this one followed us. Honestly, I would have expected a snake-devil to have more such knowledge.”

  Perhaps that last sounded more harsh than I intended, but Mei Li simply shrugged. “I could tell you quite a bit about snake-devils and other sorts of creatures. I’ve had little experience with ghosts.”

  “You heard this one calling out,” Father said.

  She bowed then. “As did you, Honorable Pan Bao, unless I am sadly mistaken.”

  Did Father actually look a bit guilty just then?

  He grunted. “Fine. I chose to ignore it. You should have done the same, but now she’s attached herself to us. I suppose we’d best find out why.”

  Father left the cave and headed toward the ghost, but in that instant, she disappeared. When he returned to the cave she was back, as if she’d nev
er left. He rubbed his beard. “Daughter Jing, see if she will talk to you.”

  I followed Father’s instructions but achieved the same result. The little girl phantom vanished as soon as I left the entrance to the cave. When I returned to Father and Mei Li, she was back in the same spot. Father nodded, looking thoughtful. “Mei Li, you try now. Daughter, please get the fire started.”

  Again I looked for my flint and striking-rock, found them, and began shaving slivers of wood to act as kindling. Yet all the while I watched as Mei Li left the cave, greeted the ghost courteously, and was soon, as far as I could tell, in intense conversation with her. Father merely acted as if he had expected no less. I had a decent fire going in the pit before Mei Li returned. She appeared puzzled.

  “Well?” Father asked.

  “She is asking for our help, just as I said before.”

  “Our answer must be the same. Or does she intend to follow us indefinitely?”

  “I think she might.”

  Father grunted. “Did you happen to learn her name? It would make an exorcism much simpler.”

  “She merely referred to herself as ‘Lost Princess.’”

  Father frowned. “Did you say ‘princess’?”

  “I did. Or rather, she did. If her clothes and bearing are any indication, I would think she’s telling the truth,” Mei Li said.

  Father was still stroking, rather than simply scratching, his beard. I knew him well enough to know the wheels in his mind were starting to turn. “What does she want?” he asked.

  “To lie quietly in her tomb. She cannot do so without our help,” Mei Li said.

  “There is obviously more to this. Perhaps you should tell us all she said.”

  Mei Li nodded. “She said she was the sole princess of the Kingdom of Kai, and her father planned to marry her to the heir to another kingdom, thus uniting the two. Before that could happen, her father’s Chief Counsellor had her poisoned.”

  I blinked. “Why?”

  “Because he was having an affair with the queen, who was pregnant with what he believed to be his child. Removing Lost Princess would place his own heir on the throne if a boy, or queen of a combined kingdom if a girl. Or so he thought.”

  Another reason any such close officials of the courts tended to be eunuchs these days, I thought.

  “I have heard of Kai,” Father said. “I assumed it was merely a legend. Regardless, how could she know all this? She was just a child.”

  Mei Li smiled. “She was a ghost for a lot longer, and ghosts are good at moving silently and listening. Especially when they are barred from their tombs. The Chief Counsellor placed a ward on her tomb after she was interred; it seems he was worried that she might return as a ghost and seek vengeance. As her burial was conducted properly, he had no reason to believe her spirit would not remain in her tomb at least for a time. The irony is her spirit was confused after her death and remained close to the court as the only home she knew. When her body was placed in the tomb, she did not follow it right away.”

  “So instead of locking her in, the scheming Chief Counsellor accidentally locked her out,” I said. “But what happened then?”

  Mei Li’s face was expressionless. “Once she knew the truth, she went a little mad, and in her fury she drained the life energy from the Chief Counsellor. She claimed it happened before she even realized she was doing it. As for the Counsellor’s child, a boy, it was stillborn. She also swears she had nothing to do with that. Regardless, the lack of an heir led to internal dissension and war. It was the end of Kai.”

  “Unfortunate all around,” Father said. “Though if she’s telling the truth, the Chief Counsellor got what he deserved. But this doesn’t change anything. We’d lose two days by returning to her tomb to remove the ward, even if, as a compassionate act—”

  “She said, as she was a princess, there would be gold in her tomb.”

  Father blinked. “Gold?”

  Mei Li nodded. “Gold, silver, jade and bronze vessels. That sort of thing.”

  Father shook his head. “A stolen treasure is a cursed treasure.”

  Mei Li demurred. “She said we were welcome to as much as we could carry. She’s tired. She wants peace and rest so she can finally pass from this world. How can the treasure be either cursed or stolen if the owner grants permission?”

  “A good point,” Father said. “But the time lost…” He shook himself. “No, it’s impossible.”

  “Actually, the place where we found her was the ruins of the royal palace of Kai, not her burial site. Her tomb is quite nearby.”

  Father was silent for several long moments. “I suppose, then, I am out of objections. Tomorrow we will be glad to assist Her Highness. Please tell her so.”

  “As you wish.”

  Mei Li turned to go, but I stopped her. “Mei Li, I’m curious… did she say why she was only willing to talk to you?”

  The snake-devil in training to be human actually looked a little embarrassed. “She said I had a kind face. I cannot tell. Do I have a kind face?”

  I sighed, and though it annoyed me for reasons I could not express, I told her the truth. “You do, Mei Li. A very kind face.”

  “I hope one day to deserve it,” she said and went to speak to the princess. Father looked thoughtful.

  “Jing, did you notice anything strange about the appearance of the ghost?”

  I frowned. “Other than being able to see through her? No.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. All that remains of her now is a desire, even if that desire is to lie quietly in her grave. So why did she not turn into a hungry ghost?”

  I understood my father’s point. Normally one who died with unfulfilled desires or was greedy in life became a hungry ghost, twisted and distorted by the thwarting of those desires. Lost Princess was an ancient ghost but still a little girl, neither more nor less. I answered my father with my best understanding.

  “Because this was not a desire of her life and only arose much later. Still, if her situation continued… well, I would hate to think what might happen.”

  Father scowled. “Understand that I must always consider what is best for us,” he said. “And yet… so would I. Becoming a Hungry Ghost is not a fate I would wish on anyone.”

  The next morning Mei Li led us farther into the hills at the ghost’s direction, though naturally the ghost kept out of sight. We soon arrived at the entrance to a small valley, really little more than a canyon, marked by the remnants of a massive gate long since fallen into ruin.

  Mei Li closed her eyes for a few moments, opened them again and said, “Her Highness says this is the entrance to the royal necropolis of the rulers of Kai.”

  “Left completely unguarded once the kingdom collapsed. Likely the place was plundered centuries ago,” Father said. “I think this may be a waste of time.”

  Mei Li shook her head. “Not completely unguarded, according to Her Highness.”

  “We’ve come this far,” I said. “We may as well see what’s here.”

  My first impression was that Father was right. As we passed old rock-cut tombs carved into the valley walls, every one we saw had its entrance smashed in and the contents emptied ages ago, their ornate carvings and stone decoration mostly gone as well, long weathered away, their stone guardian images shattered or missing. The valley walls blocked the direct rays of the late morning sun, and we could see a few ghosts lingering about, but they were weak, pallid things, even allowing for the daylight, and no danger to anyone. Every now and then I caught a glimpse of Lost Princess timidly following us.

  “I doubt any of them remember who they were or why they remain,” Mei Li said. “I think this is… sad?”

  “Sad isn’t something you think,” I said. “It is what you feel. But yes, many would consider this sad. I do.”

  “It is what it is,” Father said. “Yet Daughter Jing is right in this respect, Mei-Li—sadness is a natural human reaction to a sad situation. If you ever begin to feel this emotion the way you might
feel hunger or anger, you have taken a great step toward becoming human.”

  “What does sadness feel like?” Mei Li asked.

  “There are different types of sadness,” I said. “Grief, for example, can feel like being angry at everyone and hungry for something you can never have again, mixed with pain and regret and unfocused sorrow. It’s complicated.”

  Father grunted. “Daughter Jing lost her mother. It’s why she is angry all the time.”

  “Well…,” I said, sparing a glare in his direction, “it’s one reason.”

  “Do you still grieve for your mother?” Mei Li asked.

  “Always. Like a wound that closes but leaves a scar. It doesn’t really end.”

  “Being a snake-devil was much simpler,” Mei Li said. “No matter. I never thought this would be easy… ah. Lost Princess says to be on your guard; we’re getting close.”

  I frowned. “It’s a spirit-warded tomb. What is there for the living to guard against?”

  “I do not know, but she is rather insistent.”

  When we came into sight of an unplundered tomb, I still had no answer, but I understood the warning.

  “I count five skulls,” Father said.

  “Six, Honored Father… plus pieces of two more. Their appearance suggests they came to be here at different times.”

  “Apparently the later ones failed to heed the example of those who came before them,” Mei Li said. “That was greed. Something even a snake-devil understands.”

  The bones were scattered in front of a sealed tomb entrance. While the carving on the rock surrounding the opening had weathered no less than the other tombs in the fissure, the tomb itself appeared to be untouched.

  Father stroked his beard. “It seems we are not dealing with a conventional ward. Please stay back for the moment, all of you. Jing, Mei Li, be on your guards.”

  I drew my jian, and Mei Li took the bawu, the bamboo transverse flute she always carried, murmured something inaudible, and transformed it into a magnificent double-edged sword. I resolved to have her teach me that trick at our first opportunity, assuming we survived.