The white monkey scurried over to the hollow's entrance and peeked out.
Malao began to fidget. He whispered, “Since we need to stay quiet, why don't you show me how to do it now?”
“Do what?” Hok asked.
“You know,” Malao said, shuffling his feet. “Do what we came in here to do. Pay respects to Grandmaster.”
“You've never paid respects to someone?”
Malao shook his head.
“You never cease to amaze me, Malao,” Hok said, shaking his head. “Let's make this quick. Grandmaster is basically below us, so just lower your head and do as I tell you.”
Malao took a deep breath and nodded. He was a little worried he might do something wrong and offend Grandmaster's spirit, but he figured he would probably offend Grandmaster's spirit more if he didn't try at all.
“Close your eyes,” Hok whispered in a peaceful tone. “Fold your hands in prayer and bow three times slowly while thinking of something you would like Grandmaster to hear.”
“What should I think of?” Malao asked.
“That's up to you,” Hok said.
“Well, what did you tell him?”
“That's between me and him. Now don't talk, just think. And listen with your mind. You might be surprised by what you hear.”
Malao concentrated. I'm sorry if I offended you, Grandmaster. I now realize I should have helped Hok bury you.
Malao waited for a response. He didn't get one. He tried again. And I'm sorry I thought burying you in a tree was a disgusting idea.
Still no response. Malao focused as hard as he could, struggling to think of something else. I'm also sorry I used to joke about the Forgotten Pagoda.
For a moment, Malao swore he heard a voice. A familiar voice. He concentrated harder. And I wont ever joke about the boy in the soup again!
This time, Malao was sure he heard something. He opened his eyes wide. “Hey, Hok, did you hear—”
“Hush,” Hok whispered.
Malao slammed his eyes shut and reached out once more with his mind. His heart began to race as he imagined Grandmaster's spirit trying to communicate with him.
His heart nearly stopped when he realized the voice he was hearing wasn't Grandmaster's. It was Ying's.
“Get over here, Commander Woo,” Ying said in a harsh whisper. “Our prey is near. I can feel it.”
Ying scanned the ground. He didn't see any tracks in the dirt, but that didn't mean anything. He knew his quarry often spent time in the trees.
“Yes, sir!” Commander Woo said as he approached, his chest puffed out.
“Quiet,” Ying hissed. “I don't want to give our target a head start by announcing our presence. Keep your voice down.”
Commander Woo's shoulders slumped, and he nodded.
Ying opened the large leather bag he had slung over one shoulder and began to dig around. “Before we continue, Commander, I have a question for you. Your family name—Woo—means ‘witchcraft’ in Mandarin, does it not?”
“Yes, sir,” Commander Woo replied. “That is one translation.”
“Do you or any of your family members practice the black arts?”
“No, sir. Not that I'm aware of. Why do you ask?”
“Because you are so superstitious,” Ying said. “Also, because some call what you are about to see witchcraft. I thought you might be familiar with the procedure.”
Ying removed a small green pouch from the leather bag. He handed it to Commander Woo.
“Open it. Carefully.”
Commander Woo's large hands fumbled with the drawstrings on the slippery silk pouch. He peeked inside.
“Do you know what that is?” Ying asked.
“It appears to be some kind of powder, sir. Though I can't identify it.”
“It's powdered dragon bone,” Ying said. “There is a secret place where men pull the bones from black liquid earth under the light of the full moon. They grind the bones to make this. It is very, very expensive. A thousand times more than its weight in gold. So be careful when you carry it.”
Commander Woo raised his eyebrows.
“You are responsible for that pouch now,” Ying said. “Along with everything else in this leather bag. I am going to show you how to make a special elixir. From this day forward you will prepare it for me every evening. Doing so will serve two purposes. First, it will help you overcome your fear of the spirit world. Some claim the preparation of this drink attracts hungry ghosts who want a taste, but you will see firsthand that this is nonsense. No spirits will bother you, because spirits do not exist. The second purpose is perhaps more important. I find myself spending far too much time searching for a key ingredient every evening. You will now find it as part of the preparations.”