Chapter 4

Riding the Range (Rover)

Dr. Helen Hun was still holding the phone, talking when Jack disconnected. “Find
Master Huli,” thought Hun, “why not look for the Red Dragon or Nian the beast?” Hun
dropped the phone into its cradle. “I’m just about as likely to find them as I am to find
Huli, if he even wants to be found.”

Hun began to rummage through her desk for a map; drawer by drawer searching from the
bottom to top leaving the one below open as she moved to the one above. A professor’s
office in Wuxi University, or any university in China was little more than a closet, though
because of Hun’s prestige and because she helped to find the gold reserves, she received
a small, but valuable window. Peering through the dirty glass Hun saw a pale green Land
Rover Defender, big knobby tires, a snorkel exhaust and some person in a white shirt
holding a set of keys yelling something at her.

Hun pulled the window up to hear what the man holding the keys was saying.

“Dr. Hun,” he called, “I have your vehicle for you it is all gassed up and ready to go.”

“I can’t find a map,” Hun called back. “I don’t know where I’m going or how to get
there.”

“Don’t worry Dr. Hun. It has satellite navigation, run flat tires, heavy duty suspension,
dual winches, extra gas tanks and best of all a kick’n stereo,” he reached in the vehicle to
turn up the volume of a tape by Kylie Minogue. “Listen to that, twelve speakers and a
subwoofer in the back.”

“I’ll be right out.” Dr. Hun shuffled through the papers on her desk finding the picture of
the spirit writing and the notes she had taken while speaking to Jack earlier. She placed
the papers along with some bottled water, a note pad, two pens and her cigarettes into a
wooden puzzle box that had languished on her desk for years.

Dr. Hun had to walk the length of the building to reach the exit, then down two flights of
stairs and back around the building. “I’d have been better off climbing out the window,”
Hun grumbled as she reached the agent from the dealership. “Don’t just stand there”,
Hun snatched the key from the agents hand. “Show me how to drive this thing and turn
off that blasted music!”

After some forty-five minutes of trial and error, Dr. Hun had full command of the
satellite navigation, the sunroof and the onboard computer that monitored the vehicles
status. “Don’t worry about the fuel,” the agent tapped on the gage, “it will switch tanks
automatically.”
“Good. Will it find a service station automatically? Will it drive while I sleep? Do you
think I am some kind of idiot? Get out of my way.” Hun tossed the box on the back seat,
slammed the door, placed the vehicle in drive and promptly drove over the curb, across
the grass, through a row of azalea hedges and out to the street. “Hmm…steering feels a
little stiff, I’ll need to get that fixed when I get back. That is if I get back.”

Helen turned onto the road that would take her to the town of Meiyuan, less than an hour
from the University; she expected to be there by ten if there were no old fools jamming
the road on their ridiculous homemade scooter cars, or the one that looked like a garden
tiller tiled to an old wagon. She was enjoying the new freedom that having a vehicle at
her disposal would afford. She began to think of outings she might take, perhaps even to
go see her sister in Shanghai without taking that wretched train…except, where would
she part such a large vehicle.

Up to this point, Helen hand only driven the seemingly standard blue Buick sedan or
minivan that seemed to be everywhere in China, this was a very different experience
indeed. Although, there were more than enough Japanese and Korean cars about, most
westerners and people enjoying the new affluence in China were driving Buicks. The
navigation system on the dash kept careful tally of where she was, her speed, the amount
of fuel in the tank and the estimated distance she could travel before she was out of fuel.
She could see herself alone, left to die on the side of the road, easy prey for bandits or
fools. According to the navigation system, she could travel roughly one thousand two
hundred kilometers before running out of diesel fuel.

“I’ll starve to death well before then,” she thought as she considered the distance and the
speed she was going.

From Meiyuan she continued on to Chakau and then on to Yuntsun where she stopped at
a small temple just outside of the village. There she met a priest who told her he had
heard that the Master Huli was coming from the mountains to the west and may be in one
of the villages west of the lake. The priest suggested that Helen take the road from town
leading southeast to the town of Naxin, being the next stop. She checked her highly
sophisticated navigation system only to find the road she was about to take was not on the
map and potentially not on the face of the earth. Looking at her watch it was now a
quarter past eleven and she was beginning to think about lunch.

“This place had better have more than rice to eat,” she grumbled, put the Defender into
four-wheel drive and headed southeast as recommended. “What does a priest know about
directions? He should be all about finding god. In fact, why hasn’t he found god yet
anyway? I can tell you why, because he’s at the end of this trail of Naxin, that’s why.”

It was twenty minutes of the longest most tedious driving she had ever experienced until
she arrived at Naxin. Saying arrived was at best an exaggeration and at worse a forgone
hope. The village was no more than two houses, a pigpen and four boys with a soccer
ball. “Hey,” she called, “any of you boys ever hear of a priest named Huli?”
The tallest of the group called back “Who wants to know?”

“I do,” she called back. “I’m Dr. Helen Hun, from the University in Wuxi.”

“No need to look for him,” the boy called back. “He doesn’t need a doctor, he doesn’t
get sick.” The other boys nodded in agreement and went back to playing with the soccer
ball, the front door of a burned out house serving as the goal.

“I’m not that kind of a doctor. I’m an archeologist and history professor.”

The tallest boy walked over to the Defender and Helen rolled down the window. “An
archeologist? Does that mean you are looking for dinosaur bones around here?”

“No, that means I am looking for Master Huli to help me with some research I am doing
in ancient writing,” she replied incredulous that she was having this conversation with a
street urchin. “Do you know where he might be?”

“Nope,” the boy replied. “I know exactly where he is but it will cost you one hundred
Yuan.”

While the lad thought it was a huge sum of money, the reality was it was little more than
two dollars in US currency and pocket change in Euros. “Fine, here’s the money, where
is the priest.”

“A Buddhist priest came though here yesterday and said he had seen him on the road to
Xingjian. My guess is he is there at the temple with the other Taoist priests.” The boy
took the money and headed back to his peers.

“One more thing,” she called to the boy, “where can I get some lunch?”

His directions sent her south, around the end of the lake to the town of Hutou where she
found a very clean place that served wonderful dim sum and rice. While she ate she was
regaled with stories of how the great and mighty Master Huli had defeated warriors, had
laid foundation stones for the great wall, flow as a crane over Westlake…and on and on
and on. It was hard to believe that a man who was roughly the same as that she was
could have done so much in sixty-five years.

Helen finished her lunch and thanked the host for the fascinating stories and headed onto
Shioriang and then northeast to Xinjian.

It was nearly three in the afternoon when Helen saw the top of the temple at Xinjain. She
could only hope that Huli was somewhere nearby. No mater how comfortable the
Defender was supposed to be, she had reached her limit of driving for a while. She
needed to find some flat ground, or perhaps a bed for a short nap; either would do. Helen
looked around the inside of the luxury SUV and decided that she would just fold down
the seats and nap there. She would not awaken until nearly sunset.
 *****
Huli pushed back from the rough-hewn table, downed the last of his tea from its
traditional bowl and released a belch loud enough to shake the window glass, had there
been any. Taking a toothpick from the jar on the table, he deftly removed the bits of
tealeaves that had found their way to the crevices between his teeth.

“I see that the meal has been both filling and pleasing to you Master,” Mi Ling smiled as
she busied herself about the cooking area, careful to keep her eyes cast to the floor, rather
than making contact with the priest that was now sitting with his feet on the table,
rubbing his stomach. “Would you care for more tea, or perhaps something to smoke
Master?” Mi picked up the leather square, well tanned from use, to grasp a pot containing
boiling water.

“Mi, please, as I have said, you may simply call me Huli for my days as a temple priest
are long past and now I am but a traveler and helper to those I meet,” Huli stood and
stretched his arms as the meal and this mornings activities were now suggesting a short
nap could be in order. “Why not leave your worries of the house for a while and walk
with me to the hill above the village? It has been many years since I was last here and
much has changed. Will you walk?”

“Yes, of course Mas…Huli,” Mi blushed as she called her elder by his given name; a
very bold action by a young woman, but he did not really seem that much older and he
did tell her to call him that. Mi took a light shawl from the peg near the door as Huli
grasped his staff, then though better and left it.

The two walked slowly down the pair of ruts that was laughingly called a road, then
turned onto a well-worn path that wound its way to the top of the hill. Once Mi was
finally comfortable enough to talk freely to Huli, the words came like a waterfall over a
cliff. At first Huli considered trying to convert the flood of words into a conversation,
but it would have been easier to swim up the Yangtze River during the spring floods than
to interrupt the narrative.

Mi started with her earliest childhood memories and moved forward at a pace that at
times sent Huli’s mind into a spin and at others, seemed the drone would never end. Yet,
all in all Huli was fascinated by the young woman’s knowledge of village history, gossip,
the current state of the modern world, learning to dry tea leaves and how foolish all of the
young country men were.

She had lived in the village until she was seven before seeing the world outside. Knowing
she would not receive much of an education in the small village, Mi went to live in the
home of a relative. For eight months of the year, she lived with an aunt in Shenzhen, a
modern city known for its electronic manufacturing companies and modern lifestyle.
Though her aunt was far from wealthy, she was well connected with the local party
officials and was able to secure Mi and appointment to a rather prominent school. Mi
excelled in all subjects, as she told it, but loved foreign languages most of all. She had
become most proficient in English, often translating documents for the many American
owned businesses in Shenzhen and the Chinese businesses that dealt with them.

Mi’s parents died when she was twelve, the result of a bus accident, traveling to an open-
air market in Shanghai, to sell carvings of traditional Chinese figures to tourists. Mi still
returned to the village each year until her aunt died last year and she had once again made
it her home. By the time she was finally done, the shadows had grown long and Huli was
expending every effort to keep his eyes fully open.

Halfway through their walk, Huli had found a large soft patch of monkey grass that
turned out to be quite accommodating. The problem with focusing all ones senses on a
single subject, in this case Mi, it that it reduced the ability to perceive the other activities
going at the same time. Huli was captivated by her beauty, deep set eyes, silken black
hair, a comely form and a smile that reminded him of just how much he had loved her
great-grand mother. In fact, the more he thought of it, she looked just like her great-
grand mother. Though he could easily see himself falling in love all over again over an
hundred years later, it was something that should not and could not be.

San Jip had watched Mi and Huli walk to the top of the hill, and although he could not
tell what they were saying, their eyes said all he needed to know. His heart burned hot
with jealousy that Mi would be with the master when she was to be his. Unfortunately,
she was not aware of this fact, having only seen Jip in passing and having almost no
conversation since they had met. As Jip thought about this, he passed it off as
insignificant since he was a master as much as Huli was and he had performed a mighty
feat this day, holding back the flood and calling forth one of the gods to help. Why
wouldn’t a young woman desire such a man?

However, Jip was not the only one who was keeping an eye on the master’s activities.
Mulki, who had earlier stolen the coins from the master, was now hiding in a thicket of
bamboo not far from the monkey grass pallet the two had chosen. He was there for two
very important reasons. First, he was hiding from his father, who after learning of his
theft from one of the men of the village, had determined to beat him for his evil deed.
Second, he still believed that the master did have some magical power and if there was
anything he needed right now was some magic. Perhaps, just enough to make his father
forget the events of the day.

Huli, well lost in the prattling of Mi, did not notice either of them, or of the actions taking
place. The more Mulki considered the magical power of the master the more it seemed to
him that if he could cut a piece of fabric from the master’s coat, he should gain some
portion of the power with it. Although none of the men or boys had ever suggested there
was any special power in the garment, it seemed reasonable, at least right now, that there
could be and Mulki was in a position to make that gain. Besides, if there was no magic,
who would be the wiser?

Mulki, planning his move carefully, removed a knife from his belt and proceeded to work
his way toward Huli, and more importantly the edge of his cloak. As he moved, San Jip’s
attention was to the slight motion of the bamboo; he saw the boy. More importantly, he
saw the knife and assumed the worst, Mulki was to kill master Huli. This would not be
an unreasonable assumption as the boy was indeed creeping toward the master, knife in
hand and with obvious ill intent in his heart.

San Jip quickly ran inside the temple and retrieved a bow and quiver of arrows that sat
just inside his meditation room. Though, it not as fine as the bow that was lost battling
the Peng, Jip had proven its worth on more than one occasion. Today, Jip would prove
his measure to the master, his might to the maiden and his marksmanship to the village.
Jip drew back hard on the bow for the distance was half again as far as any arrow shot he
had ever attempted. Mulki crept ever closer and Jip worried that if he did not act quickly
the two would be so close, he would risk hitting the master; or worse yet, Mi.

Jip took a deep breath, held it, and loosed the arrow, which now headed for Mulki’s heart.
While Jip was preparing his shot, Mulki reconsidered his actions and thought a better
course might be to return the coins to the master, seek forgiveness and perhaps the master
might save him from his father.

Huli suddenly felt a low hum, a deep vibration in his chest and time seemed to stop. In
an instant, he knew where Mulki was, the intent of his heart as well as his fate, sealed by
Jip’s bow. Mulki stood, reaching out his hand to Huli, “Master I wish…” As he spoke
the arrow sought its’ mark, racing now to his midsection destined to bring a slow and
painful death.

Before Mulki could finish his sentence, Huli lunged at the boy’s feet and thrust his left
hand into the air in a single motion; throwing the boy forward, the two falling face first
into the grass and Huli clutching the arrow in his hand. Jip was racing up the hill, bow
reloaded for another shot and Mi, finally, was speechless. Huli positioned himself
between the rushing Jip and Mulki.

“Put down the bow, there is no threat.” Huli called to Jip, still bounding up the hill.

“Master,” Jip stood his ground, pulled the bow taunt, “the boy seeks to take your life. I
saw him with my own eyes, knife in hand as he crept.”

“No…uh, well, I mean…Yes, I did have the knife, but it was to take a piece of the magic
cloak, nothing more.” Mulki peered out from behind Huli, making sure not to show so
much as to provide a meaningful target for Jip.

“As foolish as it sounds,” Huli was smiling now, “this was indeed his intent.”

Jip lowered the bow. “What magic cloak? Master, did you acquire a magic cloak from
one of the gods? Does it make you invisible, or pass through solid objects?” Jip was
interested more in the cloak than Mulki now.
Huli removed the cloak and cast it onto the ground between Mulki and Jip. At once, the
cloak began to rise and take the form of a man. Both Jip and Mulki jumped back, Jip
placing Mi between him and the cloak while Mulki slipped behind Huli. The cloak
continued to grow forming great arms that reached and clawed at Mi, Jip and Mulki. All
three screamed and fell to the ground as the massive black form began to envelop them.

“Help us Master!” cried Mulki

Just as quickly as it had come, the form was gone and the cloak remained in the very spot
where Huli had thrown it. He was however nowhere to be found.

“What trickery is this?” Mulki drew his knife even as Jip reloaded the bow.

A voice spoke from behind them “It indeed is just that, trickery,” laughed Huli. “There is
no magic in the cloak. It is but an illusion. You wanted the cloak to be magic, so I
merely pushed your minds in that direction. You saw what you wanted to see and in
doing so allowed me to escape. A lesson is to be learned from this. Do not always
believe your eyes unless they agree with all your senses, including common sense.”

The three looked at one another, first embarrassed at how easily they had been deceived
and then how foolish they looked to each other. Finally, they began to laugh at one
another and then at themselves. Soon the hilltop rang with their laughter until they
watered the monkey grass with tears of joy.

Mi stood to wipe the tears from her eyes when she noticed something in the distance, just
beyond the last ridge at the approach of the valley. “Look,” she cried pointing at the
object, “what is it?”

San Jip stood, looking in the same direction, squinting his eyes to see if he could tell. “I
cannot discern the shape, but it appears to be a dark color and larger than a man.”

Mulki was quite amazed at the confusion. “It is an automobile. A Land Rover to be
exact.”

“Incredible,” replied Jip. “You have the eyes of a hawk for I can barley see the shape.
Are you sure?”

“Of course I am sure, I stood within a foot of it not more than two hours ago,” Mulki
stood with his hands on his hips looking smug. “There is a woman asleep in the back
seat as well.”

“The woman is Dr. Hun, she is from Wuxi University and she is coming to see me on
some matter.” Huli turned and started the long walk to the dark shape.

“I am sure the next question you will ask is how I knew? It is simple, the winds spoke of
it this morning and the earth told me as she grew near. All of you go back to the village
for she and I must speak of things that you would not and should not understand. At least
not yet.”

With that, Huli left the three younger members of their quartet to wonder what could be
so important.

As Huli gingerly walked down the hill and up the adjoining ridge to the Land Rover, he
laughed to himself at the thought of walking gingerly at over seventeen hundred years
old. He could see Dr. Hun, her small form curled up on the seat, head resting on the
bundle that he supposed was her coat; a wooden box on the floor at her feet. He lightly
tapped on the tinted glass.

“Dr. Hun,” he called, “Dr. Hun, can you hear me?”

Helen moved slowly, rubbing her eyes and searching for her glasses to determine who it
was that was tapping on the window. Adjusting her glasses, she starred into the face of
time in amazement. It was Huli, but it could not be, but it was and he had not changed.

“Huli? Gao Ming Huli? It that really you?” Dr. Hun asked.

“Hello Helen,” Huli replied, helping from the vehicle. “It has been sometime since we
last met. You are looking very well.”

The truth was, it had been nearly 20 years since Huli and Helen had last seen one another
face to face. Now at sixty-four years, Helen’s face showed the lines and wrinkles that
come from years of outdoor archeological work, mental strain and too much smoking.

“Master Huli,” Helen’s eyes still wide as she touched his cheeks. “How can this be?
You look…well you look as though you have not aged a day since we last saw each
other. I don’t understand.” She continued to rub the sides of his face and then looked at
his hands. It would have been obvious to even the most casual of observers that there had
been much more than a friendship between the two. Perhaps not love, but a deep
fondness and perhaps unrequited love.

“Helen you look wonderful. However, me, just good genes. I’m kind of like an old
tractor, the outside looks the same, but the parts inside are old and rusted.” Huli tried to
brush off the truth as a man might brush off dust from his shoes when he crossed a
threshold. “So tell me about your work at the University; what projects have captured
your inscrutable attentions now?”

“Huli, don’t think you can brush me off that easily. We will sit down over some lemon
grass tea and discuss how a man can remain young while I bend with age. You have
some secret herb that you take, and I will know the potion before I leave.” Helen held his
hand tightly and starred into his eyes.
“Yes, well about the projects I am working on. Most of them are of little interest to
anyone other than some clerk in the Ministry of Antiquities in Beijing. The fool believes
every statue or rock found will somehow lead to a discovery of gold, jewels or a hidden
mystic energy source that will rocket China to the top of the world power ladder. I do
however have two things to show you. One I have had on my desk for years and the
other is a photograph from a colleague in the United States.”

“A colleague in the United States? When did this happen and where did you get this
vehicle on a professor’s salary?” asked Huli.

“It is a long story, so let’s walk while we talk,” replied Dr. Hun, picking up the box and
slipping it under her arm. “About eight years ago I received a call from a young Chinese
American engineer in the U.S asking me how familiar I was with the Han Dynasty and a
scribe known as Sima Qian.”

“Yes, a very intelligent young man from Longmen, near Hancheng in Shaanxi province.
His father was the Grand Scribe of the Emperor Han Wudi. Uh, at least that is what I
believe I have read,” said Huli trying to cover the fact he was remembering their
meetings rather than historical writings.

“That’s correct,” said Helen, “but his father was actually the Prefect of the Grand
Scribes.” Helen corrected Huli, but again marveled at his knowledge of ancient history.
“That was around one hundred and forty B.C.”

“I’m sure you are correct,” said Huli, “it has been a long time since I have read my
history books. Please go on.”

“Anyway, I received a call from this young Chinese American who had been doing some
research into ancient texts from the Han Dynasty. It seems that Sima Qian had been sent
on a secret quest. The purpose of his journey was to verify the ancient rumors and
legends and to visit ancient monuments, including the renowned graves of the ancient
sage kings Yu and Shun. Places he had visited include Shandong, Yunnan, Hebei,
Zhejiang, Jiangsu, Jiangxi and Hunan.” Dr. Hun paused, setting the wooden box she had
been carrying on the ground.

“While in Hebei, in the northern part of the country, Sima Qian was taking acount of the
coal mines that provided fuel for the emperor’s foundries, when he discovered traces of
gold in the coal ore. He brought this information back to emperor Han Wudi who in turn
made him the Palace Attendant. The next year the emperor and Sima Qian went back to
the site, verified the gold’s presence and sent troops to guard it.” Helen was in deep
thought as she recalled the details.

“So how did this American get involved?” asked Huli

“Apparently,”Helen continued, “Jack got his hands on some of the original notes made
by Sima Qian. The problem is they were written in a text that was so ancient; no one in
the US could read them. He found my name in an article on the internet, so he flew to
Wuxi to show me the documents and see if I would work with him to translate them.”

“And, what were the results? Questioned Huli.

Helen stopped and sat on the ground, pulling a cigarette from her shirt pocket and
lighting it. After several long slow drags she spoke.

“Try not to get too far ahead of the story,” she said. “I need to sit for a minute or two to
catch my breath.”

“Very well,” said Huli. “Perhaps I can fill in more of the story as you sit.”

“Sima Qian, became very powerful in the palace as only he and the emperor knew where
the gold was located. As the story goes, Sima Qian was worried that the Xiongnu, who
would later become the Huns, would conquer the area and take the gold. To prevent this,
he sought the help of two military officers, Li Ling and Li Guangli. Unfortunately, they
were defeated and the emperor blamed Sima for the debacle and sentenced him to death.”

“Quite remarkable,” said Helen, “but Sima did not die. As it turns out he had the choice
of buying his freedom or being castrated. Since he did not have any money, he gave up
the “family jewels” and became a eunuch. Since no one could read the language of the
Xiongnu, Sima wrote the location of the gold mines in that language and hid the
documents. From that point forward, only the emperors knew the location of the gold
and Sima’s secret died with him.”

“Does this take us to the American yet?” asked Huli. “It will be night soon, and I would
rather not stumble down this path in the dark”

“Indeed it does,” replied Helen. “Jack Chow arrived with the writings that Sima had
hidden, but he could not read the language. I had just finished collaboration with
Alexander Vovin who was working on some earlier work by Edwin Pulleybank so the
timing was perfect. Relying on the work of Vovin and Pulleybank, we were able to
decipher most of the document and actually locate the emperor’s gold mines as well as a
rich vein of gold that runs almost all the way across the northern regions of the country.”

“Ok Helen, I have the story,” Huli waived her to stop. “Now, I need to know why you
brought a wooden box and a photograph all this way.”

“I was just about to get to that,” she said, “By the way, have I told you how young you
look?”

“Yes,” replied Huli, “Several times. Now, can we get back to the photograph and the
box?”
“Of course.” Helen took the photograph from the underside of the box and laid it on the
ground face down. “Apparently, Jack got involved with some police investigation in
New York City. At the scene of the crime, they found spirit writing and took a picture of
it. It appears to be Xiongnu, but I cannot decipher it other than two words. One appears
to be revenge and the other appears to be a name, perhaps a signature. Jack and I both
thought you might be able to help because I have heard you speak of the spirit writing
before.”

“Certainly,” replied Huli. “As I told you previously, spirit writing is done by someone
with a powerful chi. As a master he wills the elements to form words or pictures in the
air, but they only last for a very short time; seconds perhaps. May I see the photograph?”

Helen handed Huli the photograph. Almost instantly Huli’s eye’s narrowed and his
complexion became ashen. Huli dropped the photograph and grasped Helen’s face with
both hands, pulling it to within inches of his own.

“Is this real? Are you sure?” asked Huli in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I think so. Jack Chow is a very honest individual. He would have no reason to
deceive me, why?” Helen was quite frightened at Huli’s posture.

Huli stood quickly. “Helen, we must go to the village.”

“Ok, but can you read the message?” Helen asked.

“Yes,” was Huli’s reply.

“Well, what does it say?”

“It is a personal message to me. It says ‘Revenge or eternity’ and is signed ‘P’an Hu’”

“So what does it mean?” asked Helen, trotting to keep up with the long strides Huli was
taking toward the village.

“It is an invitation,” replied Huli

“Wait, what about the box?” she asked.

Huli stopped and looked at the wooden box with the tree carved on the top. “It is the box
of Chang’e. When Hou Yi shot down the nine suns, he was given the elixir of
immortality by the gods. His wife Chang’e hid the elixir in this box, but the evil Peng
saw it and made her swallow it. She became a goddess along with a jade rabbit she
kept.”

“So that is the legend, but it is merely a legend. Is the story written on the box?” asked
Helen.
“No, only part of it is legend and it is not written on the box. The elixir was actually a
fruit from the Panteo tree and it was not given to Chang’e but to monks who served the
Golden Goddess. It was kept in this box till the promised one was revealed.”

“So what does it all mean? Who was the promised one? What is the invitation? I don’t
understand,” Helen exclaimed waiving her hands in the air.

Huli stopped and turned as Helen finally caught up to him. “This is a difficult thing to
explain, Helen. We shall eat and sleep and tomorrow we shall speak of this after I have
had time to reflect on these things. Until then, you must not speak of any of this to
anyone, understand?”

“Of course,” Helen replied feeling the stress in Huli’s voice. “Tomorrow is soon enough
and I am both hungry and tired.”

Huli put his arm around Helen’s shoulder and they continued their walk past the temple
wall an on to the House of Mi Ling. Tomorrow would be a day of revelation.