ericlustbader.the ninja-第19部分

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　'She　was　of　porcelain；　this　doll；　white…faced；　dressed　elegantly　in　the　bushi　fashion。　Her　eyes　stared　at　me　and　I　could　not　look　away。　〃Buy　me；〃　they　said。
　'The　shopkeeper　wrapped　her　up　for　me　in　a　silken　cloth　and　I　took　her　home。　And；　as　I　was　unwrapping　her；　she　began　to　speak。　Her　voice　was　imperious　and　manding　and　very；　very　firm。　She　was　obviously　a　lady　of　a　high　house。
　'It　was　Itami　and　she　said　that　we　must　e　to　her。　She　said　that　we　must　leave　Singapore　and　e　to　Tokyo。'
　'Have　you　ever　met　Itami？'　the　Colonel　asked。
　'No。'
　'Did　Tsuko　ever　show　you　a　picture　of　her？'
　'No。'
　'Yet　you　are　certain　that　this　doll　in　your　dream　was　Itami。'
　'It　was　Itami；　Denis。'
　He　leaned　forward　at　last　and　took　her　hands　in　his　as　he　had　longed　to　do　for　some　time。　Her　long　nails；　he　saw　today；　were　lacquered　deep　scarlet。　He　traced　their　satiny　smoothness　for　a　moment；　savouring　the　feeling。　'We　will　go　to　Japan；　Cheong。　To　Tokyo。　We　will　meet　Itami；　just　as　your　dream　said。'
　The　smile　that　spread　across　her　face　was　like　the　rising　of　the　sun。　'Oh；　yes；　Denis？　This　is　really　true？'
　'It　is　really　true。'
　〃Then　tell　me　why；　for　my　spirit　is　happy　and　cares　not　but　my　mind；　my　mind　cries　out　to　know。'
　The　day　before　they　left；　she　took　him　to　see　So…Peng。
　He　lived　outside　the　city；　to　the　north…west；　in　a　village　of　oiled　paper　and　bamboo　where　no　Westerner　had　ever　before　set　foot。　It　was　not　on　any　map　of　the　region　that　the　Colonel　had　ever　seen。　In　fact；　when　Cheong　had　told　him　of　the　location；　he　had　laughed；　saying　that　their　destination　would　be　naught　but　the　middle　of　a　mangrove　swamp。　Nevertheless；　she　was　undeterred　and　he　eventually　acquiesced　to　her　wish。
　It　was　Sunday　and　Cheong　insisted　that　he　must　not　wear　his　uniform。　'This　is　most　vital；'　she　had　informed　him　and　as　he　donned　his　wide…lapelled　cream　linen　suit；　white　silk　shirt　and　navy　regimental　tie；　he　felt　somehow　spectacularly　naked：　a　daub　of　crimson　in　an　otherwise　emerald　jungle；　the　bull's…eye　in　an　unmissable　target。　For　her　part；　Cheong　wore　a　white　silk　dress；　embroidered　with　sky…blue　herons；　mandarin…collared；　floor…length。　She　looked　a　dream。
　There　was　brilliant　sunlight　as　they　left　the　city；　the　heat　washed　over　them　in　slippery　waves。　A　listless　breeze　brought　with　it　the　foetid　stench　of　the　mangrove　swamps　but　always　from　their　left。　Twice　they　were　obliged　to　stop；　standing　perfectly　still　as　long　black　and　silver　vipers　writhed　obliquely　across　their　path。　The　first　time　this　happened；　the　Colonel　made　a　move　to　kill　the　serpent　but　Cheong's　firm　hand　upon　his　wrist　deflected　him　from　his　purpose。
　Far　away；　yet　seeming　as　close　to　them　as　the　flamboyantly　painted　backdrop　to　some　stage　play；　the　eastern　horizon　was　fairly　choked　with　dark　grey　clouds　piling　themselves　into　the　sky　like　ungovernable　children　pyramiding　themselves　dangerously。　Above；　the　sky　was　a　peculiar　yellow；　no　blue　was　anywhere　to　be　seen；　and　now　and　again　silent　white　lightning　flickered　and　forked　through　the　grey；　turning　its　softness　for　moments　to　marble。　It　was　difficult　to　believe　that　it　was　so　calm　and　tranquil　here　where　they　walked　up　the　winding　road；　rising　along　the　spine　of　a　sprawling　hillock。
　Singapore　had　long　since　dropped　from　sight　and；　like　a　ship's　anchor　sent　overboard；　it　seemed　to　be　absolutely　gone；　part　of　another　world　which　they　had　stepped　out　of　and；　passing　through　some　invisible　barrier；　now　found　themselves　in　a　land　quite　apart。　At　least　mat　was　how　it　seemed　to　the　Colonel　on　that　magical　afternoon；　how　it　came　to　him　again　and　again　throughout　his　life　in　dreams　during　the　mornings'　drowsy　early　hours。
　On　the　far　side　of　the　forested　hillock；　all　indications　of　the　road　they　had　been　following　disappeared　and　not　even　the　semblance　of　a　path　through　the　foliage　presented　itself。　Yet　Cheong　seemed　to　have　no　difficulty　at　all　in　reorienting　herself　and；　taking　his　hand；　guiding　them　to　the　village　of　So…Peng。
　It　lay　in　a　leafy　shallow　hollow　with　the　beginnings　of　a　basalt　mountain　at　its　back；　a　natural　barrier　behind　which；　perhaps；　only　the　stormy　sea　lay。
　They　came　upon　one　house　that　seemed　in　all　respects　similar　to　those　around　it　and；　having　climbed　its　three　or　four　wide　wooden　steps　up　from　the　mud　of　the　streets；　now　stood　upon　its　front　porch；　wide　as　a　veranda　in　the　old　South　of　America；　covered　against　the　torrential　rains　and　the　baking　sun　of　the　seasons。　Here　Cheong　bade　Denis　remove　his　shoes　even　as　she　was　doing。
　The　front　door　opened　and　they　were　ushered　into　the　house　by　an　old　woman　with　steel…grey　hair；　elegantly　coiffed；　dressed　in　a　long　silk　robe　the　colour　of　swirled　ash。　She　put　her　hands　together　in　front　of　her　breasts　and　bowed　to　them。　They　returned　the　gesture　and；　as　she　stood　upright　and　smiled　at　them；　the　Colonel　saw　that　she　had　no　teeth。　Her　face　was　lined；　to　be　sure；　but　the　flesh　still　retained　a　hint　of　the　vitality　and　beauty　that　it　had　obviously　radiated　in　youth。　Her　black　almond　eyes　were　as　luminous　as　lanterns；　shining　with　the　inquisitive　innocence　of　the　little　girl　from　out　of　the　past。
　Cheong　introduced　the　Colonel。　'And　this　is　Chia　Sheng；'　she　said　without　otherwise　identifying　her。
　Chia　Sheng　laughed；　staring　at　the　Colonel's　bulk；　and　shook　her　head　from　side　to　side　as　if　to　say；　'What　can　one　do　with　young　people　today？'　She　shrugged　her　thin　shoulders　and　clucked　her　tongue　sharply　against　the　roof　of　her　mouth。
　Cheong；　the　Colonel　noted；　spoke　only　Mandarin　and；　without　being　told　in　so　many　words；　he　was　aware　that　he　should　do　the　same。
　They　were　in　a　room　of　some　considerable　size。　No　other　house　he　had　been　in　Singapore；　not　even　the　main　house　of　the　estate　bordering　the　mangrove　swamps　that　had　once　been　his；　could　boast　of　such　space。　The　outside　facade；　he　saw；　had　little　relevance　once　one　was　inside。
　More　odd；　however；　was　the　fact　that　this　room　was　covered　in　tatamis　…　Japanese　reed　mats　of　a　specific　size　by　which　all　rooms　in　traditional　Japanese　houses　were　measured。　But　more　surprises　were　in　store　for　the　Colonel。
　Chia　Sheng　led　them　wordlessly　through　this　first　room；　sparsely　furnished　with　low　lacquered　tables　and　cushions　and　little　else；　down　a　short　dimly　lit　hallway。　Its　far　wall　consisted　of　an　enormous　piece　of　jade　so　heavily　carved　that　it　became　a　latticework。　In　its　centre　was　a　round　doorway　known；　the　Colonel　had　somewhere　heard；　as　a　moon　gate。　These　existed　on　the　mainland　of　China　in　the　houses　of　the　very　wealthy　during　the　latter　half　of　the　nineteenth　century。
　Across　the　moon　gate's　opening　a　long　bolt　of　silk　hung　from　a　bamboo　pole　laid　crosswise。　It　was　grey。　Embroidered　upon　it　was　a　royal…blue　wheel…and…spoke　pattern。　This　seemed　oddly　familiar　to　the　Colonel；　and　for　long　minutes　he　racked　his　brain　until　he　recalled　that　he　had　seen　the　self…same　bolt　of　cloth　reproduced　in　a　ukiyo…e　print　by　Ando　Hiroshige。　It　was　one　of　the　Fifty…three　Stations　of　the　Tokoido　series；　he　could　not　remember　the　title　of　the　print　in　question。　However；　it　had　shown　the　design　to　belong　to　a　travelling　daimyo。　Another　mystery。　The　Colonel　shrugged　inwardly　as　Chia　Sheng　led　them　through　the　moon　gate；　white　shot　with　black　and　green。
　They　found　themselves　in　a　room　only　a　little　smaller　than　the　first。　On　three　sides　were　folding　screens　of　exquisite　manufacture；　dark　colours　ing　to　vibrant　life；　passing　through　the　years　as　if　they　were　but　veils　of　smoke。
　Scents　now　invaded　his　nostrils；　the　chalkiness　of　charcoal；　the　muskiness　of　incense；　and　there　were　others；　subtler；　delicate　cooking…oil；　tallow　and　still　others　impossible　to　define。
　'Please；'　Chia　Sheng　said；　leading　them　past　a　low　red　lacquered　table。　Freshly　cut　flowers　in　a　bowl　spread　themselves　at　its　centre。　They　disappeared　between　the　ends　of　two　of　the　screens；　which　revealed　a　doorway　of　blackness；　as　if　it　had　been　cut　out　of　the　heart　of　a　piece　of　onyx。
　'The　stairs；'　Chia　Sheng　murmured　and　they　ascended。　It　was　a　narrow　spiral　staircase　with　room　enough　to　climb　in　single　file　only。
　The　stairwell　debouched　at　length　upon　a　kind　of　tower　which　struck　the　Colonel　more　as　a　garret。　A　gr