"Ho-Li Fook On Goombah Island"
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dochermes"Ho-Li Fook On Goombah Island"
9/20/2011
I.
Sheng Mo-Yuan paused on the corner of Baxter Street in lower Manhattan as he tried to follow what two women were arguing about. His Cantonese was getting better. Sheng was hardly fluent and Uncle Pao said his accent sounded like a dog choking on a chicken bone, but at least he could carry on a conversation with only a few questionable moments.
On that dry and comfortable Autumn afternoon, Sheng stood a few feet away, trying not to be obviously watching the debate. At thirty, standing five feet five and weighing one hundred and fifty, he was obviously in great athletic trim. The tailored brown busines suit with its tan dress shirt and narrow black tie fit perfectly. He took pains with grooming and enjoyed looking his best. To most Americans, Sheng did look Asian but his high cheekbones and eagle-beaked nose hinted at his true origin in the realm of Chujir.
Standing on the stoop of an ancient brick building which had a cardboard sign FURNISHED ROOMS TO RENT tacked on its front door was a stout middle-aged Chinese woman who had an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. >"You have had five 'second chances,'"< she scolded. >"Out you go!"<
Pleading with her was an unreasonably pretty young woman also of Southern Chinese ancestry, no more than twenty, with long glossy black hair, untidy bangs and a face which needed no make-up to break hearts. Her charms seemed to be of no use at the moment, though. >"Please, pleassse, Mrs Zhang, my mother will be sending me money when she gets off work..."<
>"That song does not sound sweeter because you have sung it before. Begone, Miss Fook. Show me how you look walking away."<
The girl had a sob in her voice that would make a statue sympathize. >"At least let me get my things. All I have is what I'm wearing"<
>"You agreed your belongings were your security deposit. I'm going in."<
>"No, no, I promise my mother will go to Western Union at five..."<
The landlady held out her hand, palm up. >"Put two hundred dollars here right now."<
Sheng suprised himself. As a KDF member, he had an expense account and a platinum Visa card for business related matters but he usually carried a good amount of cash for bribing stoolies, bartenders and security guards. Reaching into the pocket sewn in his waistband on the right, he covertly pulled out a thick packet of bills and counted off two hundred, in two fifties and five twenties. Then he stepped forward and waved the money so the landlady could see it.
>"Sorry I'm late,"< he announced, >"But I hope this clears everything up."<
The young woman twisted her head around and managed a confused smile. But the landlady was less impressed. >"Who are you? Why is this your business?"<
>"Our families know each other,"< Sheng lied. His detective agency, CHUAN LO-TSING ("Hard-Working Fist") had polished his skill at making up impromptu lies. >"Are you going to turn down good hard cash?"<
Far from hesitating, the woman snatched the money quick as a mousetrap snapping shut. >"Well, it seems you are spared another week, Miss Fook. Very well."< She gave Sheng a scornful appraisal and went inside, ripping down the piece of cardboard that advertised rooms.
Seen at close range, Miss Fook was flawless. Her smile revealed perfect shining-white teeth, her peach-toned skin was smooth and soft, and her eyes had the brightness and clarity of youth. The inner eyelid fold was not very marked. >"Thank you so much, but I am sure we don't know each other?"<
"I hope you speak English," Sheng ventured.
"Oh, of course, I'm in my first year at NYU. So, you're not from the old country?"
"No. And I wasn't brought up speaking Mandarin OR Cantonese. Hello. I'm Sheng Mo-Yuan."
She held out a tiny hand, which Sheng shook and felt as if he had touched a live wire. "My name is Fook Ho-Li. I know, I know, my parents had no idea how it would sound to Americans. Ho-Li Fook, honestly. I use the first name 'Sue' most of the time with white people but you can call me Holy."
Realizing he was still holding her hand, Sheng released it and cleared his throat. "Nice to meet you, Holy. Maybe we can get coffee or something to eat nearby."
"I'd like that." She gave him a brain-stunning smile as if gifting it, then glanced down at her baggy sweatshirt and jeans with one knee out. "Just let me run upstairs and change. You're dressed so nice, I want to be appropriate and I have a little black dress I never get to put on. Be right back."
The girl went inside and Sheng put one foot on the lowest step of the stoop. He glanced at his Rolex Perpetual and saw it was two-thirty. He couldn't believe the timing. Not only did he have no KDF duties but since his Fist For Hire office didn't open until midnight, his schedule was open for a change. Where should he take this girl Holy? He hoped she liked Italian food, there was a little bistrol on Canal Street that served shells stuffed with fresh mushrooms....
Twenty minutes later, he finally gave in and rang the round white doorbell. A minute later, the door creaked open an inch to reveal rheumy blue eyes behind thick glasses. "Yeah?"
"Um, excuse me, I was waiting for Miss Fook?"
"WHO?"
"Miss Fook. Maybe you know her as Sue, she's a cute little Chinese girl. I expected her to be ready by now."
"Nah. You got your signals crossed, son. Ain't no Chinese gals here, cute or homely. This place caters to retired folks like me, mostly Jews to be honest. Maybe you got the address wrong."
Sheng's chest felt cold and heavy. "Oh. Could I speak to the landlady?"
The old man sounded unbelievably exasperated. "Landlady? Landlady? Norman Filmont owns this building." With that he slammed the door and the sound of a lock clicked.
Sheng turned and started walking north. All the color had gone out of the day. Everything looked grimy and worthless. Detectives were supposed to be shrewd and cynical and not trust anyone, some detective he was.
II.
At ten to twelve that night, Sheng trudged up the wide worn staircase to the Hartwicke Building's second floor landing. He had spent the day at the KDF headquarters building, reading reports, catching up on sleep and finishing off the leftover half of a pepperoni pizza before taking a shower and changing to a fresh shirt. His mood had lifted a little after least getting something done that day.
The door to his office was wide open, showing a fan of light from within. Sheng peeked in and saw his Uncle Pao at his small desk studying the Chinese language paper THE WORLD as if it had the next day's winning lottery numbers on some page. Well past seventy, Pao was a gaunt little figure in dark slacks and a white T-shirt with an open denim vest. Between the nearly opaque glasses and the tufts of white hair which had never known a comb, he was a vivid figure. At Sheng's entrance, the old man grinned up at him.
"Hah! You have already had two phone calls, nephew. One was from a man in New Jersey who claims to have seen a large black leopard or panther or something in his yard. He promised he will call again."
"Hmm, a cryptid," said Sheng as he went over to his own, larger desk in front of the window looking down on Mott Street. "Sounds like it could be worthwhile. What was the other call?"
"That crazy white girl, the Unicorn! She was angry about some pizza some degenerate had eaten and not left her a slice. I asked her if she wanted to hire a detective to find out who the pizza eater was and she hung up."
Sheng laughed out loud at the image. After a moment's deliberation, he decided to relate what had happened to him that afternoon. Even though he knew better than to expect sympathy, the scornful tirade from Pao hit him hard.
>"When love walks in door, brains fly out window!"< the old man yelled in what he called 'real language.' >"Have I not tried to enlighten you? You can tell when a woman is lying, her lips move. That Miss Fook and the so-called landlady probably stood on the stoop all day. They went into their act when they saw a gullible, too-trusting, naive..."<
>"Easy there, Uncle!"< Sheng protested.
The old man softened his tone of voice, >"...but good-hearted and decent young man they could swindle. I am certain that both women went into that building and immediately by another exit. Very likely they repeated this game in a different neighborhood not long after.",
>"Yes, very likely,"< Sheng agreed. Of course, there was no way Pao would actually be his uncle. Coming from the adjacent realm of Chujir, Sheng Mo-Yuan did not have any relatives in the real world. But, as he played along with Uncle's pretense to humor a lonely old man, Sheng had come to treasure the relationship on its own merits. Maybe he missed Chujir more than he had admitted.
>"I try to keep learning,"< he added.
Getting to his feet without a grunt or a wince, Uncle Pao paced over to stand by the open office door. He looked back at Sheng and gestured dramatically at the landing. >"Easier said than done. I guarantee you would be as smitten by that girl again if she walked in the door this very minute."<
As if waiting for her cue, Fook Ho Li stucked her head tentatively through the doorway. "Hello....?"
Sheng jumped to his feet so fast he knocked over his chair behind him. "WHAT? You've got some nerve coming here!"
The girl's eyes widened to the point where it must have been painful. "Err, umm, ah good-bye...." she muttered as she backed up.
"Don't you go anywhere!" Sheng barked. "Sit down in that chair. Uncle, close the door."
Holy reluctantly entered the office and chose one of the plain wooden chairs that faced the desk. "This is a little awkward."
"I bet. Are you returning my two hundred dollars?" As he spoke, Sheng uprighted his chair and dropped down into it.
"Let's not bring up the past, we should move on."
"Bring up the past?! That was this afternoon! What are you talking about?"
"Let bygones be bygones, all is forgiven," she continued. "I did not know you were the famous Argent of the Fist For Hire. I thought you were a legend of greatness."
>"She is spreading butter under your shoes so you slip and fall,"< observed Uncle Pao.
Holy gave him a withering look. >"You are used to being rude because the white people do not understand what you say."<
Caught for once, Pao sputtered and made a show of hiding behind his newspaper.
When Holy started to speak again, Uncle Pao loudly rustled the paper. She huffed and rolled her eyes.
For some reason, this made Sheng laugh out loud. "I can see you two are going to get along famously."
The girl turned her attention back to him, visibly got hold of herself and continued, "Let's start fresh. You are well known to New Yorkers for your handling of the supernatural. Maybe it's never in the media, but word of mouth says you have saved many lives from the creatures of the night. When something happens that can't be explained, no one can help but you...."
>"Well, there is the Dire Wolf."< added Uncle Pao.
Holy made a growling noise. "As I was saying..."
>"Also Unicorn and the Trom girl, they do fine work."< he added.
"Will you STOP that!" she screamed, swinging around to face the old man. "I'm here to speak with Sheng Mo-Yuan, not his great-grandfather!"
Sheng was shaking with silent laughter. This was just what he needed to get over his hurt feelings. "Uncle, thank you. But I wish to hear why this person has come here tonight."
After giving Uncle Pao one last jaundiced stare, she started again, "Two men I work for vanished from a locked room today. I was in the next room. There is one window but it is nineteen stories to the ground. I cannot imagine what happened or where they are."
"What do you mean, you work for them?" asked Sheng.
>"Nothing honest, you can be sure of that,"< came from behind the newspaper.
"I admit it, we fleece suckers. Why not? You're either in the game or you're a chump. I'm kind of an apprentice. My teachers are two men from England. Very well dressed, smooth accents, the tall one wears a hat with a round to it."
"Oh, no." Sheng's face dropped. "Not Wickett and Thicke!"
III.
"Who?" asked Holy. "I'm working for Nicholas Wendbury and Gerald Fielding. They call each other by their last names."
"These crooks have used dozens of names. I'm not sure they even know themselves what their real names use to be. Give me a quick description," Sheng managed to get out through his dismay.
>"One is an ox who has been taught to stand up on his hind legs and speak like a member of the House of Lords?"< suggested Uncle Pao.
Holy started to aim a venomous stare at the old man but restrained herself. "Yes, Fielding is huge. I'd say six feet four, two hundred and sixty pounds. Um, brown hair and eyes, kind of a long square jaw."
>"And he partners with a shaved weasel whose ears stick out to catch the wind likr sails.<" Pao added.
>"Imagine what a description of you would sound like!"< yelled Holy, before lowering her voice and going back to English. "Fair enough. Let's see, five feet ten and I dunno, well under two hundred pounds. Not bad looking but kind of wishy-washy. He says a lot of what he thinks are funny one-liners."
Behind his desk, Sheng rested his face in his hands. "Why do I get all the con men? Doc Valentine. The Punster. Don Coyote. Babe Lincoln. And now, Thicke and Wickett."
"I see we have a lot of mutual acquaintances."
"Oh, yes. Holy, they've been grifters all over Europe and the United States. As far as we know, they haven't killed anyone or even caused much physical damage. But one of them will steal your wedding ring while shaking hands and talk you into buying another ring for the other partner."
"That's the game," she repeated. "It's not going to change. But, Sheng...if I can call you that... listen. Even if you don't like them OR me, I understand you're the type of guy who wants to figure out what happened to them, just for your own curiosity."
>"It is time to mention our fee,"< Uncle Pao interrupted.
Holy assumed the most innocent and angelic face imaginable. Even angry at her and delibrately on his guard, Sheng felt a pang at seeing how pretty she was. But this was wasted on Uncle Pao.
>"My nephew requires a retainer of one thousand dollars,"< Pao added.
The expression on Holy's face suggested she had unexpectedly swallowed a hard-boiled egg raw. Sheng grinned. He was enjoying how Uncle Pao stood up for him by harassing this girl.
"But," Sheng said, "Until I see the scene of the disappearance and officially take the case, the usual charge is two hundred dollars non-redfundable."
Muttering something about how honest people were the real thieves, Fook Ho Li placed her canvas handbag on her lap and started digging in it. Getting up from behind his desk, Sheng came over and watched as she excavated a small wallet from the debris and flipped it open. Along one side were five credit cards.
"The names on those cards don't seem to match each other," Sheng observed.
"I'm holding them for my cousins so they don't max them out. Here you go, I expect I will get a receipt."
"Of course."
Not even pretending to read his paper at this point, Pao said, >"The money wags its tail like a happy dog being reunited with his master."<
>"Why don't you use Mandarin so I don't have to listen to you?"< snapped Holy.
>"I could simply use big words and produce the same effect."<
Sheng came back over and handed her a receipt. "Here you go. Wickett and Thicke have gotten mixed up in some borderline Midnight War affairs before, sometimes quite dangerous. They tried to sell Quilt a phony silver mine. So I think it's really in the public interest I look into this. Come on, we'll use my car."
"Wait," said Uncle Pao in English as he wrestled into a heavy red cardigan. "I will go down to your car first and make sure everything is locked away."
IV.
The drive uptown to 58th Street was entertaining for Sheng, at least. Uncle Pao insisted that Holy sit up front so that he could watch what she was trying to steal and she kept suggesting that they drop him off at a nursing home so he could have some oatmeal for supper. Some creative phrases in Cantonese added to the arguing.
The apartment building had its own parking lot, and Sheng felt himself extremely fortunate to pull in exactly as a car was leaving. More than once, he had been obliged to pay to retrieve his beloved Italia from an impound where it had been towed because a case had gone on too long for him to move it. Sometimes when Uncle Pao went along, he asked the old man to stay with the car for that reason but Pao was having a great time insulting Fook Ho Li and insisted on going inside the building.
Since it was now past one in the morning, the entrance was locked. Holy produced a key card that let them in and she breezed through the deserted lobby toward the pair of elevators.
>"Do not stare so, nephew. She walks like any other person, on two legs."<
Holy turned her head back and gave Sheng a mischievous smile. "See anything you like?"
"You're a good-looking young woman, no one can argue with that," Sheng replied. "But Wickett and Thicke have left dolls like you to take the fall while they get away."
"Yeah, them's the breaks." She ushered them into the cage and they rode up to the eighth floor. Pao conspicuously inserted himself between the two younger people and beamed with satisfaction. The three of them managed to reach the door to 801 without a screaming match. Holy removed an old-fashioned passkey from her canvas handbag and let them in.
Sheng went in first, gesturing for Uncle Pao and Holy to stay back. The main living room took up most of the area, along one wall were doors to two bedrooms with an open door between them revealing a bathroom. No kitchen. Sheng took his time looking the scene over before nodding to his two companions they could enter.
"This place is immaculate," he said at last. "That shower stall is gleaming. Not a hint of dust anywhere. I'd swear the curtains have been ironed."
"The big guy, I guess his name is really Wickett, acts like a valet. He pampers the smaller guy something awful, even helps him on with his coat and polishes his shoes. It's real cringeworthy."
Uncle Pao was examining a brown business suit hanging by the bedroom door. "Hah, this is genuine Harris Tweed, it wears like iron. My brother was a tailor back in Hong Kong, you know."
>"I wish you were visiting him,"< muttered Fook Ho Li.
"So the one bedroom is obviously yours," Sheng intervened. "Lots of make-up supplies on the dresser, a romance paperback on the bed. Is that your guitar?"
"Yes. I'm learning off YouTube. Before you start going through my underwear drawers, do you see anything about the reason we came here? To find out where my mentors vanished?"
"Give me a minute. Let's look in their room." Sheng led them into the other bedroom and started nosing around. It seemed Wickett was both tireless and dedicated to housekeeping. The double bed looked as if it had put together for a museum display, the mirror stretching across the dresser glistened, the carpeting was impeccable.
Sheng checked out the closet, where rather expensive men's clothing was hangingin two sections separated by a few inches.
"For a con artist and grifter, this Wickett is a damn good butler," Sheng said. He dropped down to his hands and knees to investigate under the bed. "Hmmm, what's in this box? Oh, just receipts and tickets stubs...."
While he was doing that, Uncle Pao had gone over to an end table under the sole window. He picked up a lovely purple jewel no bigger than an fingernail, set in a plate of some coppery-colored metal. >"Aiiee, nephew! Do you not smell black magic any more?"<
"Put that down!" yelled Holi in English, rushing over to try to tug it out of his hands. "They said it worth much bucks!"
Sheng rose, tugging down his suit jacket where it had ridden up, saw the tug of war and immediately vaulted across the room. "Wait!" was all he had time to saw before a flare of deep purple radiance exploded silently to fill the bedroom. When it faded, all three were gone from sight. The gem fell to the floor.
V.
Somehow they were tumbling down a gentle grass-covered slope. It took a minute for the three of them to gather their wits, come to a halt and sit up. Overhead was a deep blue sky with only a few wispy cirrus clouds. At the bottom of the slope, dense forest awaited them.
"Well, THAT's a neat trick!" yelled Fook Ho Li, pulling down her skirt and straightening her blouse. "How'd we get outside?"
>"This is gralic magic, nephew,"< Uncle Pao grumbled. He didn't seem any worse for rolling down a hill despite his age and he got up on his feet without difficulty. Pao attributed faithful practice of Tai Chi for staying limber.
>"A Travel crystal! But not an Eldanar one, they're blue and use blue light. I never saw one that color before."<
Having made herself presentable, that is to say gorgeous, Holy placed fists on hips and announced, "We went down some kind of chute. That's all. There's no magic involved, it's a carnival trick."
"Take a minute and look around. We were in central Manhattan a second ago."
"Ummm....we're in Central Park? No, I think it would have been at least ten blocks away from where we were." Holy's eyes rolled up and she sat down abruptly on the grass, mouth hanging open. This greatly amused Uncle Pao.
Sheng Mo-Yuan had been in a dozen adjacent realms since becoming a Tel Shai knight. Some were easier to identify than others. There was nothing distinctive about the scenery. They hadn't seen any animal or bird life. "Could be Signarm or Androval or maybe even Okali. Hard to say so far."
"Oh crap, this is that Midnight War stuff! Isn't it? I heard wild crazy stories bui never took them seriously." She felt composed enough to stand again.
"How do I explain the adjacent realms?" wondered Sheng. "If you've seen some science fiction movies, you know about other dimensions, right? This is like that. The purple gem transported us here."
"If you say so. I mean, I sure can't explain it." She fished her phone from her handbag and pouted. "NOW what? I know it's charged but the screen won't even light up."
"Yeah, modern technology won't function in most of the realms. Matches maybe but not a flashlight. That's the way it is."
>"That's why the air smells so clean,"< Uncle Pao added, >"No internal combustion engines in the adjacent realms."<
Holi started to agree with him before catching herself. She turned to Sheng. "We should be safe with you, anyway. Isn't it true that you can turn bullet-proof and you can throw a motorcycle across the street? Or that you can catch a knife somebody throws at you?"
"Well, yeah." Sheng didn't feel inclined to volunteer that he could only use one enhanced ability at a time. He could increase his strength, speed or resilience to harm by channeling gralic force into his body but he couldn't manage more than one power without switching.
"I always thought my grandfather's stories about Chi and Shaolin monks and Kung Fu were just superstitions but I guess if you're real..."
Pao could not restrain himself any longer. >"By the time you realize how wise are the aged ones, you will be elderly yourself."<
As Holy opened her mouth, Sheng intervened, "Hold it, hold it, we need to figure out our situation. My Link doesn't work, so I have no GPS or way to call anyone. First, let's mark this place in our heads. You see those hills over there? In the distance? One in the middle is taller than the other two. We'll call that the Tall Hill for covenience." He turned around and pointed to a withered dead tree standing by itself. "Oh, that's a good marker. If we get seperated, keep the Tall Hill on your right and find the Dead Tree. Easy."
"I guess..."
Leading them over to the tree with appeared to have been struck by lightning years ago, Sheng snapped off suitable branches at five feet in length. "Here. We may be hiking up and down all sorts of terrain, a good walking stick is indispensable."
Accepting her staff, Fook Ho-Li said, "You've done this before."
"Oh, lots of times. Jungle, swamps, deserts, I've had to deal with them all." He selected a much longer and thicker branch for himself and swung it experimentally. "This seems to be a pleasant temperate zone, we're not going to freeze or bake to death."
"And I bet you know how to find food," she added. "Nuts, berries, mushrooms."
>"Anything is edible ONCE,"< cackled Uncle Pao. >"Pick a direction, nephew."<
Sheng undid his necktie and tucked it away, opened the top button on his shirt and picked up his staff. "Usually it's best to head to lower ground, you're more likely to find fresh water that way." He set out, keeping a pace his less athletic companions could easily match.
The afternoon passed as they descended into a valley where a clear creek ran bright in the sunlight. Everyone washed their hands and faces. Sheng and Pao sniffed the water, gave it consideration and took a few sips. Then they settled back to see if there were any ill affects. An ordinary brown-furred rabbit was disturbed by their noise and scampered away.
"I don't think we're in Okali," Sheng ventured. "By now we'd have seen some unmistakable creatures. Unicorns, manticores, Thunderbirds. Maybe this is Signarm, maybe Skandor. I can't tell yet."
"Chujir?" asked Uncle Pao, who had stretched full length with his head resting on his hands clasped behind him.
"Could be. Chujir is huge, you know. I only lived in the southeast region." Sheng was surprised that Pao had even mentioned the name, since the old man believed or pretended to believe that he and Sheng were related. If they were in Chujir and had to explain themselves, it would strain the illusion of their being uncle and nephew.
Without explanation, Sheng shifted his gralic ability to strength. He bent and rolled a man-sized boulder up against another one, then tugged a third loose from where it was half sunken in the ground and carried it off to make a pyramid of the stones.
"Drat, I guess you ARE super-strong," Holy said.
Adding some smaller rocks to make the cluster distinctive, Sheng slapped his hands together. "I think this'll be easy enough to recognize. If we get separated somehow, we can follow this stream to this spot and wait for the others."
With a strained voice, Pao said, "Or we can simply ask these fellows for directions."
VI.
"Oh, no," Sheng groaned. "Goombahs."
Twenty bizarre creatures had appeared around a bend of the creek and were regarding the three strangers with uncertainty.T he Goombahs were long, lanky beings with barrel chests and unusually long arms. Except for fur kilts wrapped around their middles, they were naked and their unhealthy pale skin glistened moistly in the sunlight. Hairless heads with big jug-ears standing out from the skull, sad mournful eyes and protuding pickle-shaped noses added to the weird effect. Most were holding simple spears made of trimmed branches with chipped stone heads tied with cord at one end.
"Well, they don't make a good first impression," Holy smirked.
"And they don't get any more loveable when you get to know them," said Sheng. Let's stay calm and see how they react."
The creatures remained silent as they approached. Perhaps they could distinguish each other, but to Sheng's group the Goombahs seemed identical. After a few minutes, no hostile gestures were made. One of the creatures made a beckoning gesture obviously meaning that the strangers should come closer and Sheng complied.
As a group, the Goombahs turned and began trudging back in the direction from which they had come. As the three intruders hesitantly followed, some of the creatures kept looking back and motioning for them to keep up.
"I gotta say, they don't seem threatening," observed Fook Ho-Li. "So anyway, what do you know about these dudes?"
"Almost nothing. A colleague tangled with them a few years ago. Jeremy said they were working for one of the Three Hags. He had quite a battle with them, but these seem peaceful for now."
"Wait, you said 'Jeremy.' Jeremy Bane?" squeaked Holy. "You know the Dire Wolf?"
>"Oh, HIM you are impressed by?"< asked Pao. >"How fickle."<
"Come on, don't you two get started again," Sheng pleaded but it was too late. The barrage of insults had begun launching back and forth.
A mile went by. They were strolling at a sedate pace, but even so it was remarkable how easy Uncle Pao's stride was and how he had enough free breath to swap verbal assaults with Holy. It wasn't just that he liked to walk every day and was in general good health. No one knew it at the time, but Pao had been swiping a few of the Tagra leaves Sheng thought were hidden and had been brewing them in his ginseng tea. Tagra was what gave Tel Shai knights their enhanced healing abilities and extra vitality. Sheng had not noticed a leaf or two vanished each day, and Uncle Pao knew nothing about Tagra. So it was a situation that benefitted them both without either being aware of it.
They reached a boggy area where the stream spread out to form a small lake. On its shores was a walled village of low buildings made of stones piled together without any sort of mortar. A few Goombahs had been loitering by that wall. At the sight of three Humans, they became excited and joined the procession. The gate was crude, merely thick branches tied together and swinging on cords, but it was open.
As the party reached that gate, the worst singing voice they had ever heard began to croak, "The moon belongs to everyone, the best things in life are free..."
VI.
>"Someone is skinning a live cat,"< suggested Uncle Pao. >"Very barbaric."<
>"I'm sure someone of your generation knows all about eating cats AND dogs and monkey brains and pig rectums!"< came a disgusted snort.
"Will you two knock it off?" Sheng said. "Look at our hosts. They're smitten."
It was true. Most of the Goombahs had sagged down to kneel on the ground. They faced the direction of that awful singing, their eyes lost in worship and their mouths hanging open. Sheng felt he could have easily tied them up at that moment without their noticing.
"I don't think much of their taste in music," Holy sniffed.
The song came to an end with an off-key and excessively drawn-out "And love can come to everyone, the best things in life are freeeee....." After that noise faded, the Goombahs shook themselves and came back to life. They expressed themselves by stamping their wide flat feet and hooting. Several of them gave the three outsiders a bilious look of disapproval for not joining in.
The creatures headed through the gate and into the village, joined by others who were openly staring at the outsiders. The low houses were simply made by piling and stacking rocks which were more or less flat, then adding a thatched roof of leafy branches tied together. Large flat stones bridged house to house and made walkways along the dirt. None of the door openings were covered and there were no windows.
Yet, crude as their archictecture undeniably was, the Goombahs were not lazy. A good amount of care and effort had gone into fitting the stones closely together and even making the houses symmetrical. Between the houses were fire pits filled with charred logs, which showed that at least these creatures knew how to make fire. No signs of metalworking. A clay bowl or mug sat in open doorways.
In another minute, the three outsiders were led to a circular clearing fifty feet across which had been paved by the flat rocks to form a courtyard. Sitting cross-legged on woven grass mats were two men.
"There you are!" yelled Holy. "You bozos have some explaining to do!"
Getting up and straightening their clothes, the men seemed more flustered than relieved to see other Humans. They both were exceedingly well-dressed considering the situation, wearing lightweight tailored business suits complete with vests and tightly-knotted neckties. The smaller man was in a light grey suit with an off-white shirt and striped blue and grey tie, while the bigger one wore traditonal black, with a powder blue shirt and solid black tie. The taller of the men also wore a spotless bowler, which he lifted slightly in greeting.
"Oh, I say! Quite an unexpected pleasure to have visitors," said the smaller man. He had a pleasant if rather vacant face with a weak chin and bright blue eyes. "Who might your friends be, Holy?"
"Knock it off!" Sheng snapped. "You remember me. Wickett and Thicke, I thought you two had moved on to find suckers in Europe."
"How unkind," Thicke said. He glanced up at the taller man. "Bit unkind, don't you think, Wickett?"
The bigger man was imposing enough, with broad shoulders and large hands. He had a long somber face marked by a lantern jaw. Behind his deferential manner, his reply was stern, "One might expect more civility under the circumstances."
"Never mind the fake British act! I know you're a Melgar from Androval, Wickett. And you, Thicke, you're just as bad. You grew up in Manchester, working class to the bone. Anyway, what are you doing to these poor Goombahs?"
>"Torturing them into submission with that voice?"< suggested Uncle Pao.
"Mr Sheng, it's true we parted with some acrimony but surely that is not important now," Thicke drawled. "Wickett and I were merely misunderstood in our charitable efforts.."
To Pao and Holy, Sheng barked, "These two were raising money to help the children orphaned during flooding in a Midwestern city which never existed!"
"We were misinformed. Isn't that right, Wickett?"
"Quite so, sir," said the bigger man blandly.
"Be that as it may, it's a tremendous relief to see the calvary has arrived," Thicke went on. "Whenever you're ready, old thing, let us by all means return to the jolly so-called real world."
Sheng took a second to reply. "You don't have a way to leave this realm?"
"I'm afraid not, sir," said Wickett. "Our arrival here was a bit of an accident, if I might say so."
"That demmed purple crystal we, err obtained from the Alchemist Melchius. Bally thing went off by itself and cast us on this distant shore." Thicke seemed to finally understand the situation. "See here, you do have a means to return home, don't you?"
"No." Sheng folded his arms and took a deep breath. "We're all trapped here."
VII.
An understandable gloom settled upon everyone. To clarify the situation to everyone, Sheng explained that the purple gem was evidently a homemade travel crystal created by an Alchemist. Made by a Human, not matter how skilled, it couldn't be as reliable as those crafted by the immortal Eldanarin. There was no telling when, if ever, the gralic charge it had infused into their bodies would wear off and they would be drawn back to the real world.
"That's rather put a damper on everyone's spirits, wot?" observed Thicke. "I must say, Holy, you haven't pulled off a proper rescue."
"Well, I like that!" she snapped. "Nothing is ever your fault, is it?"
They were interrupted by the Goombahs bringing over several large earthenware bowls filled with steaming hot stew, as well as tumblers of water. Since Thicke and Wickett immediately set to eating with their fingers, Sheng nodded to the other two they should do the same. Thick and filling if bland, the stew seemed to be made of familiar sweet potatoes, carrots, onions and black beans.
"Every other day or so, our hosts add chunks of what certainly tastes like rabbit or sometimes venison," Wickett volunteered. "They have not been observed to hunt but one might conjecture they use snares and traps."
"A little salt and pepper would help," grumbled Holy, while consuming her fair share. The drinking water had some tart fruit juice mixed in. Nothing else was provided. After the crude bowls had been wiped clean of every last morsel, the five Humans sat licking their fingers with their mood slightly improved.
Two of the Goombahs came to take away the empty vessels. Getting a good look at close range, Sheng was still not ennamored of the creatures. He decided they had been Humans long ago, modified probably by Darthan sorcery. From the size and shape of their heads, he saw no reason why they wouldn't have normal levels of intelligence. Why they couldn't speak was a mystery, he'd have expected them to have their own language or at least communicate with various grunts or assorted noises.
By then, the sun was just touching the horizon to the West. Goombahs began assembling and settling down in a circle around the outsiders. Sheng counted one hundred and fifteen, with a few more moving around the edge of the crowd. Those tragic eyes and expectant attitudes were strangely touching.
Graham Thicke cleared his throat a few times. "Time to earn our keep, I fear. Three shows a day, don't you know. Dawn, noon and sunset. The village seems to all be present." With that, he began to sing with great volume but a horrendous lack of talent. "By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond...."
Holy began a withering criticism but was shushed by Wickett placing a finger to his lips. She prudently kept silent. Maybe these weird creatures would be annoyed if the concert was interrupted.
Despite the lack of pitch, ability to hit a note or stay on key, Thicke's singing had the Goombah's enthralled. They began swaying back and forth, and many gave each other reassuring nods. When the traditional Scots ballad ended, the crowd slapped their palms on the crowd with gusto. Thicke began again, "In the heart of little old New York,You'll find a thoroughfare. It's the part of little old New York that runs into Times Square..."
Sheng glanced over to see Uncle Pao somehow enjoying the experience. He had always thought the old man had a tin ear. At the appropriate time, Pao added under his breath, "Come and meet those dancing feet..." Both Wickett and Holy were suffering in silence.
After the second song, Thicke took a second to sip some water. He smiled into the adoring eyes of the Goombahs. "There were bells on the hill, but I never heard them ringing. No, I never heard them at all, 'Til there was you...."
Finally, the third song reached a merciful end. The Goombahs reluctantly rose to their full heighs, closer to seven feet tall than six, and slowly dispersed. Sheng was astonished how deeply the creatures were moved by the worst singing he had ever imagined.
Uncle Pao likewise rose and stretched, his back making a painful-sounding popping noise. "These poor things obviously are starved for art," he said.
Getting up himself, Thicke shrugged. "When we first arrived here, good old Wickett was setting up an impromptu camp by a stream. I began singing to raise my morale, wot? These Goombahs started surrounding us and it became clear that they rather enjoyed my humble efforts. I never had a lesson, you know."
"That's easy to believe," added Holy.
"They don't seem to vocalize at all," Sheng observed. "Maybe they're mute. Yours might be the first singing they've ever hear."
"Fate has been cruel to them," Uncle Pao chuckled.
"Not that I mind performing," said Thicke, "But I do miss a solid English breakfast. Beans, sausage, two fried eggs, mushrooms, you know? This stew three times a day does get tedious. Dash it all, I'm homesick."
Sheng's comment was lost as he spotted movement on a slight rise near the village wall. A tall thin figure wrapped all in black stood there, obviously not a Goombah. Before anyone could speak, the shape melted and a huge dark vulture flapped its wings to take off into the gloom.
"The Hag of the Sea!" Sheng yelled, one hand automatically slapping on the butt of his anesthetic dart gun in its holster behind his right hip. It was reflex. He realized the CO2-powered pistol wouldn't work here since other tech didn't.
Seeing the others staring in complete confusion, he explained, "She's one of the Three Sisters. They're very old witches, hundreds of years old at the least, usually operating around Greece, Italy, Turkey, that general area. My team clashed with them maybe seven or eight years ago. We did nab one, the Hag of the Desert, but the other two got away."
"Where is she now?" asked Holy, scanning the night skies and obviously expecting to be dive-bombed by a vulture.
"She went up in spontaneous combustion. We weren't gettin anywhere with our questioning, so we were going to bring her to Tel Shai so a few telepaths could skim her mind. Right in front of everyone, she exploded in a fireball that took forever to put out. Whew. The exam room had to be rebuilt because the stink would not come out."
Wickett's deferential servant tones could not disguise his criticism. "One might imagine she bears a considerable animus towards you, Mr Sheng."
"She's not the first."
Uncle Pao seemed genuinely worried. "The Three Sisters. I know foolish Americans laugh at witches on Halloween with children wearing masks and watching cartoons. But the real thing... genuine Witches! They are no joke."
"Jeremy said he and a friend fought it out with thirty or forty Goombahs. They were acting as soldiers for the Hag," Sheng said. "But is she tied up with this bunch. Well, Thicke? Wickett?"
"Can't say I've noticed that unsavory old crone before a few minutes ago," Thicke stammered.
"The lady does seem to be a presence one would not easily overlook," added Wickett.
>"Truth is a stranger to their speech,<" observed Uncle Pao.
And Holy added in Cantonese, >"You said it, grampa. They taught me how to lie convincingly. I mean, you shouldn't trust them."<
Sheng surveyed the area. Some of the Goombahs were sitting luxuriously up the fire pits between their houses, often leaning up against each other. Most had simply gone inside and presumably gone to sleep. He realized that he couldn't tell males from females; then he realized he couldn't even be sure they were divided by sexes at all. Finally he concluded it didn't make any difference to him anyway.
"You two jokers have a place to sleep?" he asked finally.
"Sadly, no," Thicke admitted. "Our hosts have provided us with these thick mats. They seem to weave everything from fronds of some bloody plant. That's how they make their skirts. It's warm enough outside that sleeping under the stars is not ordeal."
"If I may, sir, I believe tomorrow would be a proper time to rinse out some of our garments in the stream and dry them on flat rocks in the sun," said Wickett. "It will be our third day here."
"Right you are. Always on top of things, eh Wickett?"
"One tries, sir." The taller man went over to a sleeping mat some distance. "Will there be anything else, sir?"
"No, no. Good night, Wickett."
"Good night, sir."
Tugging a mat away from the pile, Fook Ho-Li plopped down and started unlacing her sneakers. "Say, how are we going to get home anyway?"
Sheng sighed, drew a mat over for Uncle Pao and then selected one for himself. "I wish I knew. Usually, a travel crystal charges your body with enough gralic energy for a set period... a few hours, a few days, whatever. Then you automatically return back to the real world. But with that shoddy crystal Melchius made, who knows? We might bounce back to Manhattan in the next few seconds or we might stay here for years. I don't know."
"That is NOT what I wanted to hear," grumbled Holy. She turned over on her mat facing away from them and apparently went to sleep instantly. To Sheng's left, Uncle Pao grumbled and muttered for a minute before he began to lightly snore. The hiking that day had worn him out.
Only Sheng remained awake until far into the night, thinking things over and mulling possibilities. Staring down at his clasped hands, he did not see the dark shape of a huge vulture circle overhead before flying off.
VIII.
Soon after dawn, the village stirred. The Goombahs seemed extremely human, stretching and scratching themselves and licking their lips. They wandered downhill to a cluster of trees which the visitors later found to be a latrine ditch. Some could be heard splashed in the stream, taking half-hearted baths.
The five Humans were given more bowls of stew, which this time included a good amount of eggs. No chickens were in sight, thought Sheng, but maybe they'rev penned at the other side of the village. It seemed from the stew that these creatures at least grew carrots and beans.
Everything proceeded at a leisurely pace. Eventually the empty bowls were taken away and the entire population sat down in a semi-circle facing their guests.
"Oh no," Sheng mutttered, "I've been dreading this."
Graham Thicke took a final sip of water, coughed into the back of his hand and began what the Goombahs seemed to regard as singing. "Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere watching for me...."
While the Goombahs swayed back and forth, staring up at Thicke with adoring puppy eyes, Uncle Pao grimaced. But he kept his silence with effort. He did not want to risk annoying their hosts.
Two more 1950s lounge-style songs followed, during which time crawled with agonizing slowness. As Thick stretched out the final line, "I did it myyy wayyyyy....", it was only with great self-control that the other Humans remained silent. Caustic remarks would have been all too easy.
Thicke took a gracious bow and thanked everyone as the Goombahs awkwardly got their feet and scattered about their business. "I have found my calling, wot? When we return home, I must get an agent and see if musicals are ready for me."
"They say there's a broken heart for every light on Broadway, sir," Wickett offered.
"They should let ME sing," Holy scoffed. "I had voice lessons in school, I was in Glee Club, I would make them melt."
>"They don't care about Human good looks,"< Uncle Pao said. >"No matter how short your skirt is, you would be a flop."<
Before the ongoing feud could flare up again, they were surprised as a dozen Goombahs carrying the crude spears stomped up to them and gestured for them to follow.
"Now what?" wondered Thicke. "I hope they don't intend to make us labor in the fields. We are clearly of a better class than that."
"Quite so, sir," agreed Wickett but he followed the waiting creatures and the other Humans thought it prudent to obey as well. The troop passed through the village. Goombahs were busy at various activities, slapping together clay bowls or repairing thatched roofs, whittling away at wood with hand-held sharp stones. One was plucking a decapitated bird not much smaller than a turkey. The creatures kept busy but they moved at a leisurely pace and seemed content.
"I don't see any metalworking at all," Sheng observed. "Not even gold or copper, and they're soft enough to work with a hammer."
Uncle Pao chimed in, "And no decorations! Where have you seen a culture that doesn't at least put some geometric patterns on things? Or some animal shapes? It's strange."
"If I may volunteer a thought," offered Wickett. "These folks don't seem to have been here for very long. None of these structures are weathered. I might guess they were relocated here from somewhere else."
"I say, Wickett, you are indeed the brains of our partnership."
"Modesty forbids me to agree, sir."
Finally, they were brought around a high fence of poles connected with thatching. In the circular area revealed was a simple wooden chair and on it sat a thin figure in a black robe that left bony arms bare. Under a black cowl was a wrinkled face whose hooked nose and pointed chin nearly met. Leaning up against her side was an elaborately carved ebony staff capped with a ruby-red jewel. With a closed-mouth leer, the Hag of the Seas greeted them.
IX.
"Welcome to Goombah Island," said the witch. "Oh, you didn't know. You're on an island eighty miles off the coast of Androval. The Melgarin have never settled here to any extent, they're not great sailors. I have a pleasant surprise for you." She waved a withered claw of a hand to where five identical Goombahs stood in a line.
"My friends here have decided that it is time you guests started earning your keep. You can start by becoming part of the tribe. In a solemn ritual tonight, I will marry each of you to one of these splendid young Goombahs."
There were no crickets on that island, but if there had been, their chirping would have seemed like thunder in that stupefied silence.
"Oh, yes," continued the Hag with overt glee. "Humans and Goombahs can breed, although the offspring are not fertile. You will be expected to fulfill your, heh heh, conjugal duties and your spouses will keep the tribe informed of your performances!"
"Surely my advanced years excuse me from such obligation" Uncle Pao said.
"I'm engaged to a lovely young gal back in Liverpools, name's Penny Fulmington," added Thicke hastily.
"I'm strict Roman Catholic and I must have a proper priest," said Holy.
"Unfortunately, I was wounded in battle some years ago and am not a whole man," insisted Wickett.
Last to chime in, Sheng Mo-Yuan yelled, "Well, I can't make up an excuse but I promise you there will be a stack of broken Goombahs on the ground before you make me go through with this!"
"Hunger will change your minds soon enough," replied the crone, rubbing her hands together in delight. "We are adding some fowl to the noon meal, very much like Cornish hens! And there will be grilled trout tonight. When your stomachs demand it, you will take the vows..."
The silence that followed seemed to weigh everyone down with a physical weight. Shoulders sagged, mouths drooped. Fook Ho Li was blushing a lovely pinkish tone and from Thicke's eyes tears began to drip.
Then the Hag of the Seas burst into full-bodied laughter that made her frail form shake visibly. She hugged herself with pencil-thin arms and roared with a mouth that had not a single tooth in it. "You believed it! You believed it entirely! Oh, let Dread Draldros take me if you are not all such fools..."
"You mean.. it's not true?" ventured Thicke.
"Of course it's not true, you simple upper-class twit. Look at these Goombahs! You don't want to know how they reproduce, it would haunt your nightmares. No, I was enjoying my little jest. I am the only fun I have, heh heh."
Sheng found he was breathing easier and realized he had been holding his breath. "Oh. Well. Glad to hear that."
Raising her conjure staff, the Hag of the Seas regained her composure after a minute. "I have many many followers. Every few days, I will summon one here who actually has a decent singing voice. I am sure my serfs here will appreciate some variety after the dreadful croaking they have listened to."
"Oh, that's a rum go," objected Thicke. "I fancy they enjoyed my singing."
"Be silent! Your life still hangs on my whim. Perhaps I am mellowing as I near three hundred, but there is no need to slay you fools. The important thing is that I need never suffer hearing you again. Begone!"
She stamped the mystic staff on the ground and lurid red radiance filled the air. In the next instant, all five found themselves jumping for their lives out of the way of an eighteen-wheeler going eighty miles an hour. The Hag of the Seas had transported them back to the real world but on the New York State Thruway at five-thirty on a Friday.
3/20/2023
9/20/2011
I.
Sheng Mo-Yuan paused on the corner of Baxter Street in lower Manhattan as he tried to follow what two women were arguing about. His Cantonese was getting better. Sheng was hardly fluent and Uncle Pao said his accent sounded like a dog choking on a chicken bone, but at least he could carry on a conversation with only a few questionable moments.
On that dry and comfortable Autumn afternoon, Sheng stood a few feet away, trying not to be obviously watching the debate. At thirty, standing five feet five and weighing one hundred and fifty, he was obviously in great athletic trim. The tailored brown busines suit with its tan dress shirt and narrow black tie fit perfectly. He took pains with grooming and enjoyed looking his best. To most Americans, Sheng did look Asian but his high cheekbones and eagle-beaked nose hinted at his true origin in the realm of Chujir.
Standing on the stoop of an ancient brick building which had a cardboard sign FURNISHED ROOMS TO RENT tacked on its front door was a stout middle-aged Chinese woman who had an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. >"You have had five 'second chances,'"< she scolded. >"Out you go!"<
Pleading with her was an unreasonably pretty young woman also of Southern Chinese ancestry, no more than twenty, with long glossy black hair, untidy bangs and a face which needed no make-up to break hearts. Her charms seemed to be of no use at the moment, though. >"Please, pleassse, Mrs Zhang, my mother will be sending me money when she gets off work..."<
>"That song does not sound sweeter because you have sung it before. Begone, Miss Fook. Show me how you look walking away."<
The girl had a sob in her voice that would make a statue sympathize. >"At least let me get my things. All I have is what I'm wearing"<
>"You agreed your belongings were your security deposit. I'm going in."<
>"No, no, I promise my mother will go to Western Union at five..."<
The landlady held out her hand, palm up. >"Put two hundred dollars here right now."<
Sheng suprised himself. As a KDF member, he had an expense account and a platinum Visa card for business related matters but he usually carried a good amount of cash for bribing stoolies, bartenders and security guards. Reaching into the pocket sewn in his waistband on the right, he covertly pulled out a thick packet of bills and counted off two hundred, in two fifties and five twenties. Then he stepped forward and waved the money so the landlady could see it.
>"Sorry I'm late,"< he announced, >"But I hope this clears everything up."<
The young woman twisted her head around and managed a confused smile. But the landlady was less impressed. >"Who are you? Why is this your business?"<
>"Our families know each other,"< Sheng lied. His detective agency, CHUAN LO-TSING ("Hard-Working Fist") had polished his skill at making up impromptu lies. >"Are you going to turn down good hard cash?"<
Far from hesitating, the woman snatched the money quick as a mousetrap snapping shut. >"Well, it seems you are spared another week, Miss Fook. Very well."< She gave Sheng a scornful appraisal and went inside, ripping down the piece of cardboard that advertised rooms.
Seen at close range, Miss Fook was flawless. Her smile revealed perfect shining-white teeth, her peach-toned skin was smooth and soft, and her eyes had the brightness and clarity of youth. The inner eyelid fold was not very marked. >"Thank you so much, but I am sure we don't know each other?"<
"I hope you speak English," Sheng ventured.
"Oh, of course, I'm in my first year at NYU. So, you're not from the old country?"
"No. And I wasn't brought up speaking Mandarin OR Cantonese. Hello. I'm Sheng Mo-Yuan."
She held out a tiny hand, which Sheng shook and felt as if he had touched a live wire. "My name is Fook Ho-Li. I know, I know, my parents had no idea how it would sound to Americans. Ho-Li Fook, honestly. I use the first name 'Sue' most of the time with white people but you can call me Holy."
Realizing he was still holding her hand, Sheng released it and cleared his throat. "Nice to meet you, Holy. Maybe we can get coffee or something to eat nearby."
"I'd like that." She gave him a brain-stunning smile as if gifting it, then glanced down at her baggy sweatshirt and jeans with one knee out. "Just let me run upstairs and change. You're dressed so nice, I want to be appropriate and I have a little black dress I never get to put on. Be right back."
The girl went inside and Sheng put one foot on the lowest step of the stoop. He glanced at his Rolex Perpetual and saw it was two-thirty. He couldn't believe the timing. Not only did he have no KDF duties but since his Fist For Hire office didn't open until midnight, his schedule was open for a change. Where should he take this girl Holy? He hoped she liked Italian food, there was a little bistrol on Canal Street that served shells stuffed with fresh mushrooms....
Twenty minutes later, he finally gave in and rang the round white doorbell. A minute later, the door creaked open an inch to reveal rheumy blue eyes behind thick glasses. "Yeah?"
"Um, excuse me, I was waiting for Miss Fook?"
"WHO?"
"Miss Fook. Maybe you know her as Sue, she's a cute little Chinese girl. I expected her to be ready by now."
"Nah. You got your signals crossed, son. Ain't no Chinese gals here, cute or homely. This place caters to retired folks like me, mostly Jews to be honest. Maybe you got the address wrong."
Sheng's chest felt cold and heavy. "Oh. Could I speak to the landlady?"
The old man sounded unbelievably exasperated. "Landlady? Landlady? Norman Filmont owns this building." With that he slammed the door and the sound of a lock clicked.
Sheng turned and started walking north. All the color had gone out of the day. Everything looked grimy and worthless. Detectives were supposed to be shrewd and cynical and not trust anyone, some detective he was.
II.
At ten to twelve that night, Sheng trudged up the wide worn staircase to the Hartwicke Building's second floor landing. He had spent the day at the KDF headquarters building, reading reports, catching up on sleep and finishing off the leftover half of a pepperoni pizza before taking a shower and changing to a fresh shirt. His mood had lifted a little after least getting something done that day.
The door to his office was wide open, showing a fan of light from within. Sheng peeked in and saw his Uncle Pao at his small desk studying the Chinese language paper THE WORLD as if it had the next day's winning lottery numbers on some page. Well past seventy, Pao was a gaunt little figure in dark slacks and a white T-shirt with an open denim vest. Between the nearly opaque glasses and the tufts of white hair which had never known a comb, he was a vivid figure. At Sheng's entrance, the old man grinned up at him.
"Hah! You have already had two phone calls, nephew. One was from a man in New Jersey who claims to have seen a large black leopard or panther or something in his yard. He promised he will call again."
"Hmm, a cryptid," said Sheng as he went over to his own, larger desk in front of the window looking down on Mott Street. "Sounds like it could be worthwhile. What was the other call?"
"That crazy white girl, the Unicorn! She was angry about some pizza some degenerate had eaten and not left her a slice. I asked her if she wanted to hire a detective to find out who the pizza eater was and she hung up."
Sheng laughed out loud at the image. After a moment's deliberation, he decided to relate what had happened to him that afternoon. Even though he knew better than to expect sympathy, the scornful tirade from Pao hit him hard.
>"When love walks in door, brains fly out window!"< the old man yelled in what he called 'real language.' >"Have I not tried to enlighten you? You can tell when a woman is lying, her lips move. That Miss Fook and the so-called landlady probably stood on the stoop all day. They went into their act when they saw a gullible, too-trusting, naive..."<
>"Easy there, Uncle!"< Sheng protested.
The old man softened his tone of voice, >"...but good-hearted and decent young man they could swindle. I am certain that both women went into that building and immediately by another exit. Very likely they repeated this game in a different neighborhood not long after.",
>"Yes, very likely,"< Sheng agreed. Of course, there was no way Pao would actually be his uncle. Coming from the adjacent realm of Chujir, Sheng Mo-Yuan did not have any relatives in the real world. But, as he played along with Uncle's pretense to humor a lonely old man, Sheng had come to treasure the relationship on its own merits. Maybe he missed Chujir more than he had admitted.
>"I try to keep learning,"< he added.
Getting to his feet without a grunt or a wince, Uncle Pao paced over to stand by the open office door. He looked back at Sheng and gestured dramatically at the landing. >"Easier said than done. I guarantee you would be as smitten by that girl again if she walked in the door this very minute."<
As if waiting for her cue, Fook Ho Li stucked her head tentatively through the doorway. "Hello....?"
Sheng jumped to his feet so fast he knocked over his chair behind him. "WHAT? You've got some nerve coming here!"
The girl's eyes widened to the point where it must have been painful. "Err, umm, ah good-bye...." she muttered as she backed up.
"Don't you go anywhere!" Sheng barked. "Sit down in that chair. Uncle, close the door."
Holy reluctantly entered the office and chose one of the plain wooden chairs that faced the desk. "This is a little awkward."
"I bet. Are you returning my two hundred dollars?" As he spoke, Sheng uprighted his chair and dropped down into it.
"Let's not bring up the past, we should move on."
"Bring up the past?! That was this afternoon! What are you talking about?"
"Let bygones be bygones, all is forgiven," she continued. "I did not know you were the famous Argent of the Fist For Hire. I thought you were a legend of greatness."
>"She is spreading butter under your shoes so you slip and fall,"< observed Uncle Pao.
Holy gave him a withering look. >"You are used to being rude because the white people do not understand what you say."<
Caught for once, Pao sputtered and made a show of hiding behind his newspaper.
When Holy started to speak again, Uncle Pao loudly rustled the paper. She huffed and rolled her eyes.
For some reason, this made Sheng laugh out loud. "I can see you two are going to get along famously."
The girl turned her attention back to him, visibly got hold of herself and continued, "Let's start fresh. You are well known to New Yorkers for your handling of the supernatural. Maybe it's never in the media, but word of mouth says you have saved many lives from the creatures of the night. When something happens that can't be explained, no one can help but you...."
>"Well, there is the Dire Wolf."< added Uncle Pao.
Holy made a growling noise. "As I was saying..."
>"Also Unicorn and the Trom girl, they do fine work."< he added.
"Will you STOP that!" she screamed, swinging around to face the old man. "I'm here to speak with Sheng Mo-Yuan, not his great-grandfather!"
Sheng was shaking with silent laughter. This was just what he needed to get over his hurt feelings. "Uncle, thank you. But I wish to hear why this person has come here tonight."
After giving Uncle Pao one last jaundiced stare, she started again, "Two men I work for vanished from a locked room today. I was in the next room. There is one window but it is nineteen stories to the ground. I cannot imagine what happened or where they are."
"What do you mean, you work for them?" asked Sheng.
>"Nothing honest, you can be sure of that,"< came from behind the newspaper.
"I admit it, we fleece suckers. Why not? You're either in the game or you're a chump. I'm kind of an apprentice. My teachers are two men from England. Very well dressed, smooth accents, the tall one wears a hat with a round to it."
"Oh, no." Sheng's face dropped. "Not Wickett and Thicke!"
III.
"Who?" asked Holy. "I'm working for Nicholas Wendbury and Gerald Fielding. They call each other by their last names."
"These crooks have used dozens of names. I'm not sure they even know themselves what their real names use to be. Give me a quick description," Sheng managed to get out through his dismay.
>"One is an ox who has been taught to stand up on his hind legs and speak like a member of the House of Lords?"< suggested Uncle Pao.
Holy started to aim a venomous stare at the old man but restrained herself. "Yes, Fielding is huge. I'd say six feet four, two hundred and sixty pounds. Um, brown hair and eyes, kind of a long square jaw."
>"And he partners with a shaved weasel whose ears stick out to catch the wind likr sails.<" Pao added.
>"Imagine what a description of you would sound like!"< yelled Holy, before lowering her voice and going back to English. "Fair enough. Let's see, five feet ten and I dunno, well under two hundred pounds. Not bad looking but kind of wishy-washy. He says a lot of what he thinks are funny one-liners."
Behind his desk, Sheng rested his face in his hands. "Why do I get all the con men? Doc Valentine. The Punster. Don Coyote. Babe Lincoln. And now, Thicke and Wickett."
"I see we have a lot of mutual acquaintances."
"Oh, yes. Holy, they've been grifters all over Europe and the United States. As far as we know, they haven't killed anyone or even caused much physical damage. But one of them will steal your wedding ring while shaking hands and talk you into buying another ring for the other partner."
"That's the game," she repeated. "It's not going to change. But, Sheng...if I can call you that... listen. Even if you don't like them OR me, I understand you're the type of guy who wants to figure out what happened to them, just for your own curiosity."
>"It is time to mention our fee,"< Uncle Pao interrupted.
Holy assumed the most innocent and angelic face imaginable. Even angry at her and delibrately on his guard, Sheng felt a pang at seeing how pretty she was. But this was wasted on Uncle Pao.
>"My nephew requires a retainer of one thousand dollars,"< Pao added.
The expression on Holy's face suggested she had unexpectedly swallowed a hard-boiled egg raw. Sheng grinned. He was enjoying how Uncle Pao stood up for him by harassing this girl.
"But," Sheng said, "Until I see the scene of the disappearance and officially take the case, the usual charge is two hundred dollars non-redfundable."
Muttering something about how honest people were the real thieves, Fook Ho Li placed her canvas handbag on her lap and started digging in it. Getting up from behind his desk, Sheng came over and watched as she excavated a small wallet from the debris and flipped it open. Along one side were five credit cards.
"The names on those cards don't seem to match each other," Sheng observed.
"I'm holding them for my cousins so they don't max them out. Here you go, I expect I will get a receipt."
"Of course."
Not even pretending to read his paper at this point, Pao said, >"The money wags its tail like a happy dog being reunited with his master."<
>"Why don't you use Mandarin so I don't have to listen to you?"< snapped Holy.
>"I could simply use big words and produce the same effect."<
Sheng came back over and handed her a receipt. "Here you go. Wickett and Thicke have gotten mixed up in some borderline Midnight War affairs before, sometimes quite dangerous. They tried to sell Quilt a phony silver mine. So I think it's really in the public interest I look into this. Come on, we'll use my car."
"Wait," said Uncle Pao in English as he wrestled into a heavy red cardigan. "I will go down to your car first and make sure everything is locked away."
IV.
The drive uptown to 58th Street was entertaining for Sheng, at least. Uncle Pao insisted that Holy sit up front so that he could watch what she was trying to steal and she kept suggesting that they drop him off at a nursing home so he could have some oatmeal for supper. Some creative phrases in Cantonese added to the arguing.
The apartment building had its own parking lot, and Sheng felt himself extremely fortunate to pull in exactly as a car was leaving. More than once, he had been obliged to pay to retrieve his beloved Italia from an impound where it had been towed because a case had gone on too long for him to move it. Sometimes when Uncle Pao went along, he asked the old man to stay with the car for that reason but Pao was having a great time insulting Fook Ho Li and insisted on going inside the building.
Since it was now past one in the morning, the entrance was locked. Holy produced a key card that let them in and she breezed through the deserted lobby toward the pair of elevators.
>"Do not stare so, nephew. She walks like any other person, on two legs."<
Holy turned her head back and gave Sheng a mischievous smile. "See anything you like?"
"You're a good-looking young woman, no one can argue with that," Sheng replied. "But Wickett and Thicke have left dolls like you to take the fall while they get away."
"Yeah, them's the breaks." She ushered them into the cage and they rode up to the eighth floor. Pao conspicuously inserted himself between the two younger people and beamed with satisfaction. The three of them managed to reach the door to 801 without a screaming match. Holy removed an old-fashioned passkey from her canvas handbag and let them in.
Sheng went in first, gesturing for Uncle Pao and Holy to stay back. The main living room took up most of the area, along one wall were doors to two bedrooms with an open door between them revealing a bathroom. No kitchen. Sheng took his time looking the scene over before nodding to his two companions they could enter.
"This place is immaculate," he said at last. "That shower stall is gleaming. Not a hint of dust anywhere. I'd swear the curtains have been ironed."
"The big guy, I guess his name is really Wickett, acts like a valet. He pampers the smaller guy something awful, even helps him on with his coat and polishes his shoes. It's real cringeworthy."
Uncle Pao was examining a brown business suit hanging by the bedroom door. "Hah, this is genuine Harris Tweed, it wears like iron. My brother was a tailor back in Hong Kong, you know."
>"I wish you were visiting him,"< muttered Fook Ho Li.
"So the one bedroom is obviously yours," Sheng intervened. "Lots of make-up supplies on the dresser, a romance paperback on the bed. Is that your guitar?"
"Yes. I'm learning off YouTube. Before you start going through my underwear drawers, do you see anything about the reason we came here? To find out where my mentors vanished?"
"Give me a minute. Let's look in their room." Sheng led them into the other bedroom and started nosing around. It seemed Wickett was both tireless and dedicated to housekeeping. The double bed looked as if it had put together for a museum display, the mirror stretching across the dresser glistened, the carpeting was impeccable.
Sheng checked out the closet, where rather expensive men's clothing was hangingin two sections separated by a few inches.
"For a con artist and grifter, this Wickett is a damn good butler," Sheng said. He dropped down to his hands and knees to investigate under the bed. "Hmmm, what's in this box? Oh, just receipts and tickets stubs...."
While he was doing that, Uncle Pao had gone over to an end table under the sole window. He picked up a lovely purple jewel no bigger than an fingernail, set in a plate of some coppery-colored metal. >"Aiiee, nephew! Do you not smell black magic any more?"<
"Put that down!" yelled Holi in English, rushing over to try to tug it out of his hands. "They said it worth much bucks!"
Sheng rose, tugging down his suit jacket where it had ridden up, saw the tug of war and immediately vaulted across the room. "Wait!" was all he had time to saw before a flare of deep purple radiance exploded silently to fill the bedroom. When it faded, all three were gone from sight. The gem fell to the floor.
V.
Somehow they were tumbling down a gentle grass-covered slope. It took a minute for the three of them to gather their wits, come to a halt and sit up. Overhead was a deep blue sky with only a few wispy cirrus clouds. At the bottom of the slope, dense forest awaited them.
"Well, THAT's a neat trick!" yelled Fook Ho Li, pulling down her skirt and straightening her blouse. "How'd we get outside?"
>"This is gralic magic, nephew,"< Uncle Pao grumbled. He didn't seem any worse for rolling down a hill despite his age and he got up on his feet without difficulty. Pao attributed faithful practice of Tai Chi for staying limber.
>"A Travel crystal! But not an Eldanar one, they're blue and use blue light. I never saw one that color before."<
Having made herself presentable, that is to say gorgeous, Holy placed fists on hips and announced, "We went down some kind of chute. That's all. There's no magic involved, it's a carnival trick."
"Take a minute and look around. We were in central Manhattan a second ago."
"Ummm....we're in Central Park? No, I think it would have been at least ten blocks away from where we were." Holy's eyes rolled up and she sat down abruptly on the grass, mouth hanging open. This greatly amused Uncle Pao.
Sheng Mo-Yuan had been in a dozen adjacent realms since becoming a Tel Shai knight. Some were easier to identify than others. There was nothing distinctive about the scenery. They hadn't seen any animal or bird life. "Could be Signarm or Androval or maybe even Okali. Hard to say so far."
"Oh crap, this is that Midnight War stuff! Isn't it? I heard wild crazy stories bui never took them seriously." She felt composed enough to stand again.
"How do I explain the adjacent realms?" wondered Sheng. "If you've seen some science fiction movies, you know about other dimensions, right? This is like that. The purple gem transported us here."
"If you say so. I mean, I sure can't explain it." She fished her phone from her handbag and pouted. "NOW what? I know it's charged but the screen won't even light up."
"Yeah, modern technology won't function in most of the realms. Matches maybe but not a flashlight. That's the way it is."
>"That's why the air smells so clean,"< Uncle Pao added, >"No internal combustion engines in the adjacent realms."<
Holi started to agree with him before catching herself. She turned to Sheng. "We should be safe with you, anyway. Isn't it true that you can turn bullet-proof and you can throw a motorcycle across the street? Or that you can catch a knife somebody throws at you?"
"Well, yeah." Sheng didn't feel inclined to volunteer that he could only use one enhanced ability at a time. He could increase his strength, speed or resilience to harm by channeling gralic force into his body but he couldn't manage more than one power without switching.
"I always thought my grandfather's stories about Chi and Shaolin monks and Kung Fu were just superstitions but I guess if you're real..."
Pao could not restrain himself any longer. >"By the time you realize how wise are the aged ones, you will be elderly yourself."<
As Holy opened her mouth, Sheng intervened, "Hold it, hold it, we need to figure out our situation. My Link doesn't work, so I have no GPS or way to call anyone. First, let's mark this place in our heads. You see those hills over there? In the distance? One in the middle is taller than the other two. We'll call that the Tall Hill for covenience." He turned around and pointed to a withered dead tree standing by itself. "Oh, that's a good marker. If we get seperated, keep the Tall Hill on your right and find the Dead Tree. Easy."
"I guess..."
Leading them over to the tree with appeared to have been struck by lightning years ago, Sheng snapped off suitable branches at five feet in length. "Here. We may be hiking up and down all sorts of terrain, a good walking stick is indispensable."
Accepting her staff, Fook Ho-Li said, "You've done this before."
"Oh, lots of times. Jungle, swamps, deserts, I've had to deal with them all." He selected a much longer and thicker branch for himself and swung it experimentally. "This seems to be a pleasant temperate zone, we're not going to freeze or bake to death."
"And I bet you know how to find food," she added. "Nuts, berries, mushrooms."
>"Anything is edible ONCE,"< cackled Uncle Pao. >"Pick a direction, nephew."<
Sheng undid his necktie and tucked it away, opened the top button on his shirt and picked up his staff. "Usually it's best to head to lower ground, you're more likely to find fresh water that way." He set out, keeping a pace his less athletic companions could easily match.
The afternoon passed as they descended into a valley where a clear creek ran bright in the sunlight. Everyone washed their hands and faces. Sheng and Pao sniffed the water, gave it consideration and took a few sips. Then they settled back to see if there were any ill affects. An ordinary brown-furred rabbit was disturbed by their noise and scampered away.
"I don't think we're in Okali," Sheng ventured. "By now we'd have seen some unmistakable creatures. Unicorns, manticores, Thunderbirds. Maybe this is Signarm, maybe Skandor. I can't tell yet."
"Chujir?" asked Uncle Pao, who had stretched full length with his head resting on his hands clasped behind him.
"Could be. Chujir is huge, you know. I only lived in the southeast region." Sheng was surprised that Pao had even mentioned the name, since the old man believed or pretended to believe that he and Sheng were related. If they were in Chujir and had to explain themselves, it would strain the illusion of their being uncle and nephew.
Without explanation, Sheng shifted his gralic ability to strength. He bent and rolled a man-sized boulder up against another one, then tugged a third loose from where it was half sunken in the ground and carried it off to make a pyramid of the stones.
"Drat, I guess you ARE super-strong," Holy said.
Adding some smaller rocks to make the cluster distinctive, Sheng slapped his hands together. "I think this'll be easy enough to recognize. If we get separated somehow, we can follow this stream to this spot and wait for the others."
With a strained voice, Pao said, "Or we can simply ask these fellows for directions."
VI.
"Oh, no," Sheng groaned. "Goombahs."
Twenty bizarre creatures had appeared around a bend of the creek and were regarding the three strangers with uncertainty.T he Goombahs were long, lanky beings with barrel chests and unusually long arms. Except for fur kilts wrapped around their middles, they were naked and their unhealthy pale skin glistened moistly in the sunlight. Hairless heads with big jug-ears standing out from the skull, sad mournful eyes and protuding pickle-shaped noses added to the weird effect. Most were holding simple spears made of trimmed branches with chipped stone heads tied with cord at one end.
"Well, they don't make a good first impression," Holy smirked.
"And they don't get any more loveable when you get to know them," said Sheng. Let's stay calm and see how they react."
The creatures remained silent as they approached. Perhaps they could distinguish each other, but to Sheng's group the Goombahs seemed identical. After a few minutes, no hostile gestures were made. One of the creatures made a beckoning gesture obviously meaning that the strangers should come closer and Sheng complied.
As a group, the Goombahs turned and began trudging back in the direction from which they had come. As the three intruders hesitantly followed, some of the creatures kept looking back and motioning for them to keep up.
"I gotta say, they don't seem threatening," observed Fook Ho-Li. "So anyway, what do you know about these dudes?"
"Almost nothing. A colleague tangled with them a few years ago. Jeremy said they were working for one of the Three Hags. He had quite a battle with them, but these seem peaceful for now."
"Wait, you said 'Jeremy.' Jeremy Bane?" squeaked Holy. "You know the Dire Wolf?"
>"Oh, HIM you are impressed by?"< asked Pao. >"How fickle."<
"Come on, don't you two get started again," Sheng pleaded but it was too late. The barrage of insults had begun launching back and forth.
A mile went by. They were strolling at a sedate pace, but even so it was remarkable how easy Uncle Pao's stride was and how he had enough free breath to swap verbal assaults with Holy. It wasn't just that he liked to walk every day and was in general good health. No one knew it at the time, but Pao had been swiping a few of the Tagra leaves Sheng thought were hidden and had been brewing them in his ginseng tea. Tagra was what gave Tel Shai knights their enhanced healing abilities and extra vitality. Sheng had not noticed a leaf or two vanished each day, and Uncle Pao knew nothing about Tagra. So it was a situation that benefitted them both without either being aware of it.
They reached a boggy area where the stream spread out to form a small lake. On its shores was a walled village of low buildings made of stones piled together without any sort of mortar. A few Goombahs had been loitering by that wall. At the sight of three Humans, they became excited and joined the procession. The gate was crude, merely thick branches tied together and swinging on cords, but it was open.
As the party reached that gate, the worst singing voice they had ever heard began to croak, "The moon belongs to everyone, the best things in life are free..."
VI.
>"Someone is skinning a live cat,"< suggested Uncle Pao. >"Very barbaric."<
>"I'm sure someone of your generation knows all about eating cats AND dogs and monkey brains and pig rectums!"< came a disgusted snort.
"Will you two knock it off?" Sheng said. "Look at our hosts. They're smitten."
It was true. Most of the Goombahs had sagged down to kneel on the ground. They faced the direction of that awful singing, their eyes lost in worship and their mouths hanging open. Sheng felt he could have easily tied them up at that moment without their noticing.
"I don't think much of their taste in music," Holy sniffed.
The song came to an end with an off-key and excessively drawn-out "And love can come to everyone, the best things in life are freeeee....." After that noise faded, the Goombahs shook themselves and came back to life. They expressed themselves by stamping their wide flat feet and hooting. Several of them gave the three outsiders a bilious look of disapproval for not joining in.
The creatures headed through the gate and into the village, joined by others who were openly staring at the outsiders. The low houses were simply made by piling and stacking rocks which were more or less flat, then adding a thatched roof of leafy branches tied together. Large flat stones bridged house to house and made walkways along the dirt. None of the door openings were covered and there were no windows.
Yet, crude as their archictecture undeniably was, the Goombahs were not lazy. A good amount of care and effort had gone into fitting the stones closely together and even making the houses symmetrical. Between the houses were fire pits filled with charred logs, which showed that at least these creatures knew how to make fire. No signs of metalworking. A clay bowl or mug sat in open doorways.
In another minute, the three outsiders were led to a circular clearing fifty feet across which had been paved by the flat rocks to form a courtyard. Sitting cross-legged on woven grass mats were two men.
"There you are!" yelled Holy. "You bozos have some explaining to do!"
Getting up and straightening their clothes, the men seemed more flustered than relieved to see other Humans. They both were exceedingly well-dressed considering the situation, wearing lightweight tailored business suits complete with vests and tightly-knotted neckties. The smaller man was in a light grey suit with an off-white shirt and striped blue and grey tie, while the bigger one wore traditonal black, with a powder blue shirt and solid black tie. The taller of the men also wore a spotless bowler, which he lifted slightly in greeting.
"Oh, I say! Quite an unexpected pleasure to have visitors," said the smaller man. He had a pleasant if rather vacant face with a weak chin and bright blue eyes. "Who might your friends be, Holy?"
"Knock it off!" Sheng snapped. "You remember me. Wickett and Thicke, I thought you two had moved on to find suckers in Europe."
"How unkind," Thicke said. He glanced up at the taller man. "Bit unkind, don't you think, Wickett?"
The bigger man was imposing enough, with broad shoulders and large hands. He had a long somber face marked by a lantern jaw. Behind his deferential manner, his reply was stern, "One might expect more civility under the circumstances."
"Never mind the fake British act! I know you're a Melgar from Androval, Wickett. And you, Thicke, you're just as bad. You grew up in Manchester, working class to the bone. Anyway, what are you doing to these poor Goombahs?"
>"Torturing them into submission with that voice?"< suggested Uncle Pao.
"Mr Sheng, it's true we parted with some acrimony but surely that is not important now," Thicke drawled. "Wickett and I were merely misunderstood in our charitable efforts.."
To Pao and Holy, Sheng barked, "These two were raising money to help the children orphaned during flooding in a Midwestern city which never existed!"
"We were misinformed. Isn't that right, Wickett?"
"Quite so, sir," said the bigger man blandly.
"Be that as it may, it's a tremendous relief to see the calvary has arrived," Thicke went on. "Whenever you're ready, old thing, let us by all means return to the jolly so-called real world."
Sheng took a second to reply. "You don't have a way to leave this realm?"
"I'm afraid not, sir," said Wickett. "Our arrival here was a bit of an accident, if I might say so."
"That demmed purple crystal we, err obtained from the Alchemist Melchius. Bally thing went off by itself and cast us on this distant shore." Thicke seemed to finally understand the situation. "See here, you do have a means to return home, don't you?"
"No." Sheng folded his arms and took a deep breath. "We're all trapped here."
VII.
An understandable gloom settled upon everyone. To clarify the situation to everyone, Sheng explained that the purple gem was evidently a homemade travel crystal created by an Alchemist. Made by a Human, not matter how skilled, it couldn't be as reliable as those crafted by the immortal Eldanarin. There was no telling when, if ever, the gralic charge it had infused into their bodies would wear off and they would be drawn back to the real world.
"That's rather put a damper on everyone's spirits, wot?" observed Thicke. "I must say, Holy, you haven't pulled off a proper rescue."
"Well, I like that!" she snapped. "Nothing is ever your fault, is it?"
They were interrupted by the Goombahs bringing over several large earthenware bowls filled with steaming hot stew, as well as tumblers of water. Since Thicke and Wickett immediately set to eating with their fingers, Sheng nodded to the other two they should do the same. Thick and filling if bland, the stew seemed to be made of familiar sweet potatoes, carrots, onions and black beans.
"Every other day or so, our hosts add chunks of what certainly tastes like rabbit or sometimes venison," Wickett volunteered. "They have not been observed to hunt but one might conjecture they use snares and traps."
"A little salt and pepper would help," grumbled Holy, while consuming her fair share. The drinking water had some tart fruit juice mixed in. Nothing else was provided. After the crude bowls had been wiped clean of every last morsel, the five Humans sat licking their fingers with their mood slightly improved.
Two of the Goombahs came to take away the empty vessels. Getting a good look at close range, Sheng was still not ennamored of the creatures. He decided they had been Humans long ago, modified probably by Darthan sorcery. From the size and shape of their heads, he saw no reason why they wouldn't have normal levels of intelligence. Why they couldn't speak was a mystery, he'd have expected them to have their own language or at least communicate with various grunts or assorted noises.
By then, the sun was just touching the horizon to the West. Goombahs began assembling and settling down in a circle around the outsiders. Sheng counted one hundred and fifteen, with a few more moving around the edge of the crowd. Those tragic eyes and expectant attitudes were strangely touching.
Graham Thicke cleared his throat a few times. "Time to earn our keep, I fear. Three shows a day, don't you know. Dawn, noon and sunset. The village seems to all be present." With that, he began to sing with great volume but a horrendous lack of talent. "By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond...."
Holy began a withering criticism but was shushed by Wickett placing a finger to his lips. She prudently kept silent. Maybe these weird creatures would be annoyed if the concert was interrupted.
Despite the lack of pitch, ability to hit a note or stay on key, Thicke's singing had the Goombah's enthralled. They began swaying back and forth, and many gave each other reassuring nods. When the traditional Scots ballad ended, the crowd slapped their palms on the crowd with gusto. Thicke began again, "In the heart of little old New York,You'll find a thoroughfare. It's the part of little old New York that runs into Times Square..."
Sheng glanced over to see Uncle Pao somehow enjoying the experience. He had always thought the old man had a tin ear. At the appropriate time, Pao added under his breath, "Come and meet those dancing feet..." Both Wickett and Holy were suffering in silence.
After the second song, Thicke took a second to sip some water. He smiled into the adoring eyes of the Goombahs. "There were bells on the hill, but I never heard them ringing. No, I never heard them at all, 'Til there was you...."
Finally, the third song reached a merciful end. The Goombahs reluctantly rose to their full heighs, closer to seven feet tall than six, and slowly dispersed. Sheng was astonished how deeply the creatures were moved by the worst singing he had ever imagined.
Uncle Pao likewise rose and stretched, his back making a painful-sounding popping noise. "These poor things obviously are starved for art," he said.
Getting up himself, Thicke shrugged. "When we first arrived here, good old Wickett was setting up an impromptu camp by a stream. I began singing to raise my morale, wot? These Goombahs started surrounding us and it became clear that they rather enjoyed my humble efforts. I never had a lesson, you know."
"That's easy to believe," added Holy.
"They don't seem to vocalize at all," Sheng observed. "Maybe they're mute. Yours might be the first singing they've ever hear."
"Fate has been cruel to them," Uncle Pao chuckled.
"Not that I mind performing," said Thicke, "But I do miss a solid English breakfast. Beans, sausage, two fried eggs, mushrooms, you know? This stew three times a day does get tedious. Dash it all, I'm homesick."
Sheng's comment was lost as he spotted movement on a slight rise near the village wall. A tall thin figure wrapped all in black stood there, obviously not a Goombah. Before anyone could speak, the shape melted and a huge dark vulture flapped its wings to take off into the gloom.
"The Hag of the Sea!" Sheng yelled, one hand automatically slapping on the butt of his anesthetic dart gun in its holster behind his right hip. It was reflex. He realized the CO2-powered pistol wouldn't work here since other tech didn't.
Seeing the others staring in complete confusion, he explained, "She's one of the Three Sisters. They're very old witches, hundreds of years old at the least, usually operating around Greece, Italy, Turkey, that general area. My team clashed with them maybe seven or eight years ago. We did nab one, the Hag of the Desert, but the other two got away."
"Where is she now?" asked Holy, scanning the night skies and obviously expecting to be dive-bombed by a vulture.
"She went up in spontaneous combustion. We weren't gettin anywhere with our questioning, so we were going to bring her to Tel Shai so a few telepaths could skim her mind. Right in front of everyone, she exploded in a fireball that took forever to put out. Whew. The exam room had to be rebuilt because the stink would not come out."
Wickett's deferential servant tones could not disguise his criticism. "One might imagine she bears a considerable animus towards you, Mr Sheng."
"She's not the first."
Uncle Pao seemed genuinely worried. "The Three Sisters. I know foolish Americans laugh at witches on Halloween with children wearing masks and watching cartoons. But the real thing... genuine Witches! They are no joke."
"Jeremy said he and a friend fought it out with thirty or forty Goombahs. They were acting as soldiers for the Hag," Sheng said. "But is she tied up with this bunch. Well, Thicke? Wickett?"
"Can't say I've noticed that unsavory old crone before a few minutes ago," Thicke stammered.
"The lady does seem to be a presence one would not easily overlook," added Wickett.
>"Truth is a stranger to their speech,<" observed Uncle Pao.
And Holy added in Cantonese, >"You said it, grampa. They taught me how to lie convincingly. I mean, you shouldn't trust them."<
Sheng surveyed the area. Some of the Goombahs were sitting luxuriously up the fire pits between their houses, often leaning up against each other. Most had simply gone inside and presumably gone to sleep. He realized that he couldn't tell males from females; then he realized he couldn't even be sure they were divided by sexes at all. Finally he concluded it didn't make any difference to him anyway.
"You two jokers have a place to sleep?" he asked finally.
"Sadly, no," Thicke admitted. "Our hosts have provided us with these thick mats. They seem to weave everything from fronds of some bloody plant. That's how they make their skirts. It's warm enough outside that sleeping under the stars is not ordeal."
"If I may, sir, I believe tomorrow would be a proper time to rinse out some of our garments in the stream and dry them on flat rocks in the sun," said Wickett. "It will be our third day here."
"Right you are. Always on top of things, eh Wickett?"
"One tries, sir." The taller man went over to a sleeping mat some distance. "Will there be anything else, sir?"
"No, no. Good night, Wickett."
"Good night, sir."
Tugging a mat away from the pile, Fook Ho-Li plopped down and started unlacing her sneakers. "Say, how are we going to get home anyway?"
Sheng sighed, drew a mat over for Uncle Pao and then selected one for himself. "I wish I knew. Usually, a travel crystal charges your body with enough gralic energy for a set period... a few hours, a few days, whatever. Then you automatically return back to the real world. But with that shoddy crystal Melchius made, who knows? We might bounce back to Manhattan in the next few seconds or we might stay here for years. I don't know."
"That is NOT what I wanted to hear," grumbled Holy. She turned over on her mat facing away from them and apparently went to sleep instantly. To Sheng's left, Uncle Pao grumbled and muttered for a minute before he began to lightly snore. The hiking that day had worn him out.
Only Sheng remained awake until far into the night, thinking things over and mulling possibilities. Staring down at his clasped hands, he did not see the dark shape of a huge vulture circle overhead before flying off.
VIII.
Soon after dawn, the village stirred. The Goombahs seemed extremely human, stretching and scratching themselves and licking their lips. They wandered downhill to a cluster of trees which the visitors later found to be a latrine ditch. Some could be heard splashed in the stream, taking half-hearted baths.
The five Humans were given more bowls of stew, which this time included a good amount of eggs. No chickens were in sight, thought Sheng, but maybe they'rev penned at the other side of the village. It seemed from the stew that these creatures at least grew carrots and beans.
Everything proceeded at a leisurely pace. Eventually the empty bowls were taken away and the entire population sat down in a semi-circle facing their guests.
"Oh no," Sheng mutttered, "I've been dreading this."
Graham Thicke took a final sip of water, coughed into the back of his hand and began what the Goombahs seemed to regard as singing. "Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere watching for me...."
While the Goombahs swayed back and forth, staring up at Thicke with adoring puppy eyes, Uncle Pao grimaced. But he kept his silence with effort. He did not want to risk annoying their hosts.
Two more 1950s lounge-style songs followed, during which time crawled with agonizing slowness. As Thick stretched out the final line, "I did it myyy wayyyyy....", it was only with great self-control that the other Humans remained silent. Caustic remarks would have been all too easy.
Thicke took a gracious bow and thanked everyone as the Goombahs awkwardly got their feet and scattered about their business. "I have found my calling, wot? When we return home, I must get an agent and see if musicals are ready for me."
"They say there's a broken heart for every light on Broadway, sir," Wickett offered.
"They should let ME sing," Holy scoffed. "I had voice lessons in school, I was in Glee Club, I would make them melt."
>"They don't care about Human good looks,"< Uncle Pao said. >"No matter how short your skirt is, you would be a flop."<
Before the ongoing feud could flare up again, they were surprised as a dozen Goombahs carrying the crude spears stomped up to them and gestured for them to follow.
"Now what?" wondered Thicke. "I hope they don't intend to make us labor in the fields. We are clearly of a better class than that."
"Quite so, sir," agreed Wickett but he followed the waiting creatures and the other Humans thought it prudent to obey as well. The troop passed through the village. Goombahs were busy at various activities, slapping together clay bowls or repairing thatched roofs, whittling away at wood with hand-held sharp stones. One was plucking a decapitated bird not much smaller than a turkey. The creatures kept busy but they moved at a leisurely pace and seemed content.
"I don't see any metalworking at all," Sheng observed. "Not even gold or copper, and they're soft enough to work with a hammer."
Uncle Pao chimed in, "And no decorations! Where have you seen a culture that doesn't at least put some geometric patterns on things? Or some animal shapes? It's strange."
"If I may volunteer a thought," offered Wickett. "These folks don't seem to have been here for very long. None of these structures are weathered. I might guess they were relocated here from somewhere else."
"I say, Wickett, you are indeed the brains of our partnership."
"Modesty forbids me to agree, sir."
Finally, they were brought around a high fence of poles connected with thatching. In the circular area revealed was a simple wooden chair and on it sat a thin figure in a black robe that left bony arms bare. Under a black cowl was a wrinkled face whose hooked nose and pointed chin nearly met. Leaning up against her side was an elaborately carved ebony staff capped with a ruby-red jewel. With a closed-mouth leer, the Hag of the Seas greeted them.
IX.
"Welcome to Goombah Island," said the witch. "Oh, you didn't know. You're on an island eighty miles off the coast of Androval. The Melgarin have never settled here to any extent, they're not great sailors. I have a pleasant surprise for you." She waved a withered claw of a hand to where five identical Goombahs stood in a line.
"My friends here have decided that it is time you guests started earning your keep. You can start by becoming part of the tribe. In a solemn ritual tonight, I will marry each of you to one of these splendid young Goombahs."
There were no crickets on that island, but if there had been, their chirping would have seemed like thunder in that stupefied silence.
"Oh, yes," continued the Hag with overt glee. "Humans and Goombahs can breed, although the offspring are not fertile. You will be expected to fulfill your, heh heh, conjugal duties and your spouses will keep the tribe informed of your performances!"
"Surely my advanced years excuse me from such obligation" Uncle Pao said.
"I'm engaged to a lovely young gal back in Liverpools, name's Penny Fulmington," added Thicke hastily.
"I'm strict Roman Catholic and I must have a proper priest," said Holy.
"Unfortunately, I was wounded in battle some years ago and am not a whole man," insisted Wickett.
Last to chime in, Sheng Mo-Yuan yelled, "Well, I can't make up an excuse but I promise you there will be a stack of broken Goombahs on the ground before you make me go through with this!"
"Hunger will change your minds soon enough," replied the crone, rubbing her hands together in delight. "We are adding some fowl to the noon meal, very much like Cornish hens! And there will be grilled trout tonight. When your stomachs demand it, you will take the vows..."
The silence that followed seemed to weigh everyone down with a physical weight. Shoulders sagged, mouths drooped. Fook Ho Li was blushing a lovely pinkish tone and from Thicke's eyes tears began to drip.
Then the Hag of the Seas burst into full-bodied laughter that made her frail form shake visibly. She hugged herself with pencil-thin arms and roared with a mouth that had not a single tooth in it. "You believed it! You believed it entirely! Oh, let Dread Draldros take me if you are not all such fools..."
"You mean.. it's not true?" ventured Thicke.
"Of course it's not true, you simple upper-class twit. Look at these Goombahs! You don't want to know how they reproduce, it would haunt your nightmares. No, I was enjoying my little jest. I am the only fun I have, heh heh."
Sheng found he was breathing easier and realized he had been holding his breath. "Oh. Well. Glad to hear that."
Raising her conjure staff, the Hag of the Seas regained her composure after a minute. "I have many many followers. Every few days, I will summon one here who actually has a decent singing voice. I am sure my serfs here will appreciate some variety after the dreadful croaking they have listened to."
"Oh, that's a rum go," objected Thicke. "I fancy they enjoyed my singing."
"Be silent! Your life still hangs on my whim. Perhaps I am mellowing as I near three hundred, but there is no need to slay you fools. The important thing is that I need never suffer hearing you again. Begone!"
She stamped the mystic staff on the ground and lurid red radiance filled the air. In the next instant, all five found themselves jumping for their lives out of the way of an eighteen-wheeler going eighty miles an hour. The Hag of the Seas had transported them back to the real world but on the New York State Thruway at five-thirty on a Friday.
3/20/2023
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Date: 2025-01-14 02:22 am (UTC)But there's no defending the name Ho Li Fook. I just have a fondness for atrocious puns. Babe Lincoln, Yokel Ono, Casey Strangle...