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Authors: Laurie R. King
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thought so,” I told him. As with most Western cities, the Chinese community in San Francisco was closely hemmed by judicial ordinance and societal expectations. They were allowed to run laundries, make deliveries, and perform menial labour, but a Chinese cook in a private home would have been unusual.
“You don’t remember,” he said, not a question.
“I am sorry, Holmes,” I snapped. “I’m not being deliberately unco-operative, you know.”
But even as I said it, his question had woken a node of memory; the ghost stirred again, that ample-bodied figure moving from stove to scullery. A cook: But now that I thought about it, the woman had been wearing loose trousers, and soft shoes. And a tunic, but colourful, not a thing a menial worker would have worn for hard labour.
“Mah,” I breathed in wonder. “Her name was Mah. And Micah was her brother.”
“Who is Micah?”
“Our gardener. He rescued a bird from the neighbour’s cat one time. He wore a sweaty soft hat, and he used to bow when he gave my mother a bouquet from the flower bed. And . . . and he used to make me laugh with the way he talked. He called me ‘missy.’”
“Did he wear a queue?” Holmes’ voice was soft, as if not to disturb my attention.
“He . . .” I began to say no, he wore a hat, but again my hand knew the truth of the matter: my small fingers wrapping curiously around a smooth, glossy rope of plaited hair, hot from the sun. But the sensation seemed very distant, as if overlaid by something else. “Bless me, he did. His hair was once in a long plait all the length of his back, but that was a very long time ago. Later I just remember the Western hat, and that he dressed like anyone else.”
“No doubt after the emperor was overthrown in 1911, your gardener would have joined the rest of the world in cutting the queue and taking on the laws and customs of his adoptive land. Before that, his assuming Western dress would have been dangerous for his family in China.”
“That’s why Chinatown seemed different,” I exclaimed.
“How is that?”
“The streets. I remember them as filled with people in strange dress—funny hats, the queues, foreign clothes. But yesterday most of them were dressed like the rest of the city.”
“And their children will now be going to public schools, and their laws will be those of America.”
“But how on earth did you know? That he was Chinese, I mean?”
“The mirror, the water, the pot-plant. There is a Chinese belief that the psychic energies within a room can be shaped by the judicious use of objects that embody the elements. Something to do with the dragons under the earth. Symbolic, of course, but a belief in patterns of electromagnetic energies across the face of the earth is common—one need only note the prehistoric hillside carvings in Peru, the song-lines among the aboriginals of Australia, and the ley-lines across England.”
I braced myself for a set piece on one of Holmes’ many and invariably arcane interests, but that seemed to be the extent of his lecture for the time being. With a last glance around, he went out the swinging door, leaving it standing open. A moment later I heard his feet climbing the stairs.
Chapter Four
I did not follow him. Truth to tell, I was feeling just a little shaky.
I am a person to whom self-control is basic. Over the course of the past few years I had been shot, knifed, and forcibly drugged with a hypodermic needle; I’d had Holmes abducted from my side, been abducted myself, come within moments of being blown to a red mist, and recently faced down a tusked boar mad with rage, all the while eating peculiar foods, wearing impossible costumes, and sleeping in scores of highly uncomfortable situations. Yet I had never really deep-down doubted my ability to meet the peculiar demands of life with Holmes, because I had always trusted my body and mind to function smoothly together. Will and intellect, in easy harmony.
And suddenly, what
“You don’t remember,” he said, not a question.
“I am sorry, Holmes,” I snapped. “I’m not being deliberately unco-operative, you know.”
But even as I said it, his question had woken a node of memory; the ghost stirred again, that ample-bodied figure moving from stove to scullery. A cook: But now that I thought about it, the woman had been wearing loose trousers, and soft shoes. And a tunic, but colourful, not a thing a menial worker would have worn for hard labour.
“Mah,” I breathed in wonder. “Her name was Mah. And Micah was her brother.”
“Who is Micah?”
“Our gardener. He rescued a bird from the neighbour’s cat one time. He wore a sweaty soft hat, and he used to bow when he gave my mother a bouquet from the flower bed. And . . . and he used to make me laugh with the way he talked. He called me ‘missy.’”
“Did he wear a queue?” Holmes’ voice was soft, as if not to disturb my attention.
“He . . .” I began to say no, he wore a hat, but again my hand knew the truth of the matter: my small fingers wrapping curiously around a smooth, glossy rope of plaited hair, hot from the sun. But the sensation seemed very distant, as if overlaid by something else. “Bless me, he did. His hair was once in a long plait all the length of his back, but that was a very long time ago. Later I just remember the Western hat, and that he dressed like anyone else.”
“No doubt after the emperor was overthrown in 1911, your gardener would have joined the rest of the world in cutting the queue and taking on the laws and customs of his adoptive land. Before that, his assuming Western dress would have been dangerous for his family in China.”
“That’s why Chinatown seemed different,” I exclaimed.
“How is that?”
“The streets. I remember them as filled with people in strange dress—funny hats, the queues, foreign clothes. But yesterday most of them were dressed like the rest of the city.”
“And their children will now be going to public schools, and their laws will be those of America.”
“But how on earth did you know? That he was Chinese, I mean?”
“The mirror, the water, the pot-plant. There is a Chinese belief that the psychic energies within a room can be shaped by the judicious use of objects that embody the elements. Something to do with the dragons under the earth. Symbolic, of course, but a belief in patterns of electromagnetic energies across the face of the earth is common—one need only note the prehistoric hillside carvings in Peru, the song-lines among the aboriginals of Australia, and the ley-lines across England.”
I braced myself for a set piece on one of Holmes’ many and invariably arcane interests, but that seemed to be the extent of his lecture for the time being. With a last glance around, he went out the swinging door, leaving it standing open. A moment later I heard his feet climbing the stairs.
Chapter Four
I did not follow him. Truth to tell, I was feeling just a little shaky.
I am a person to whom self-control is basic. Over the course of the past few years I had been shot, knifed, and forcibly drugged with a hypodermic needle; I’d had Holmes abducted from my side, been abducted myself, come within moments of being blown to a red mist, and recently faced down a tusked boar mad with rage, all the while eating peculiar foods, wearing impossible costumes, and sleeping in scores of highly uncomfortable situations. Yet I had never really deep-down doubted my ability to meet the peculiar demands of life with Holmes, because I had always trusted my body and mind to function smoothly together. Will and intellect, in easy harmony.
And suddenly, what
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