bout de papier, Vol. 27, No. 4 (2013) — Winter 2013–14 // Hiver 2013-2014, pp. 37–40
bottom of a glass of rye. He showed me another design for our letterhead. It said:
SHAMUS DIKK, Private Investigations
“If you think your case is hopeless, you don’t know Dikk”
I told him, “Don’t quit the day job.” “But this is my day job.” “I wouldn’t go there.”
The world went “pop” and a figure appeared from nowhere in the client chair. “Yi Xing,” I said, “What’s new with the Jade Emperor?” The Chinese immortal winced. “There is nothing new with the Jade Emperor, who is eternal and unchanging. But for me, something new every day. I am here to enlist your help again. This time, in Japan.” “But we have no contacts there,” I replied. “I threw the I Ching. It told me a Western expert was needed. And there is little time. If we don’t control Hitokotonushi within half a day, he will tear the country apart. Bare-handed.”
Effie gulped. “Such a pity,” he said. “There’s no way we can get to Japan that fast. Passports, visas, long plane ride, you know.” “Fortunately,” replied Yi Xing, standing up and taking our hands, “I am not so bound.” And then we were sitting in what turned out to be a teahouse in Kyoto, panelled in paper screens, with low tables on straw mats and a woman in brocade playing some sort of guitar. Our host set things out.
“A thousand years ago, a powerful Buddhist magician named En no Gyoja fought and defeated a mountain god named ravine on Mount Katsuragi, bound by layers of magic vines. But En no Gyoja knew that Hitokotonushi wasn’t going to die. He could afford to wait and plot. So the magician kept an eye out. One day, a monk named Taicho stumbled across the boulder and was conned by Hitokotonushi into speaking a spell of release. Before he could finish it, En no Gyoja showed up in a fury and reset the magical boundaries. He made Taisho guardian of the boulder, with a magical flute to refresh the wards around Hitokotonushi. He also made the monk immortal but really ugly.”
“What was this flute?” I asked. “It was the most wonderful shakuhachi ever crafted, called Twinleaf for the single red and green leaves lacquered on it. Only one person could play it, until they died and it passed to someone else. Once a year, Taicho would go to the ravine and play before the boulder. For a long time things stayed quiet. But Hitokotonushi was devious, and even from the rock he could reach into the world. He found the monk’s one true love, a Kyoto merchant’s daughter named Mariko, and arranged that they meet. They fell in love and were happy for a year. Then, when Taicho was on Mount Katsuragi, she fell ill and died – Hitokotonushi’s doing. When Taicho got back, all the life went out of him. He rarely left his cell and he stopped his pilgrimages to the mountain. Then one day he woke to find that the red lacquer leaf had disappeared from the shakuhachi, and a real one was lying on the floor. He gave the “That was centuries ago. En no Gyoja’s spells are strong, but all magic weakens. It’s clear that Hitokotonushi is about to break out. He is strong and crazy and he’s been stuffed inside a rock for a thousand years. The spells must be renewed. The shakuhachi is kept in a temple in Uji, but no-one can play it. That means Taicho is alive, but no-one knows where, or whether he would set aside his grief to help us. And the red leaf is missing too.”
“We have 12 hours?” asked Effie brightly. “Piece of cake. Which reminds me, I left a cake in the oven back home. Can I go back?” “No,” Yi Xing said, “We’ll need you.” I said, “Where do we start?” The immortal stroked his thin beard. “Mariko never rejoined the Great Wheel, so she remains on this plane. If we find her, she might help us with Taicho. Let’s begin at her old house — it’s not far from here.”
We paid and went out. As we left the teahouse, we saw a man in antique dress with a wicker basket over his head, playing a wooden flute. “A komuso Zen monk,” said Yi Xing. “I didn’t know there were any left.” Effie just said, “Cool music, whoever he is,” and gave the monk some money. The musician pulled out a magazine and handed it to Effie, saying, “You may need this.” We pulled Effie away. The komuso went back to his music.
Mariko’s place was wildly overgrown. We saw no-one. An old woman approached. She had a sharp wrinkled face with high cheekbones and a long nose, surrounded by a bush of dyed red hair. She barked, “Who are you? And why is a man wearing that dress?” I looked at Effie. I forget that he is a transvestite. He replied, “It’s Balenciaga, grandma.” “Flamingo pink isn’t your colour, dear. I’d try something darker.” The two began to talk fabric. I checked my watch and started to interrupt, but Yi Xing put a hand on my arm.
Then the woman said, “Enough. Why are you hanging around on a day this cold?” Effie replied, “We’re looking for someone who died, um, about a thousand years ago.” The woman said, “You mean Mariko?” “Yes. Is she here?” “Where else? When she died, her family took her to the cemetery, but when they got there, the coffin was empty. They got back and found her here, laid out in her prettiest gown. This happened four or five times, so they gave up, abandoned the house with her in it. No-one would come near, and it crumbled into nothing over the years. Now it’s under that mound.” “Wow. So she’s… not available?” “Oh, she’ll show up if asked politely. But all she’ll talk about is her lover, who must be dust by now.”
Yi Xing interjected, “That would suit us fine. Could you call her?” The woman nodded and walked to the mound. She pounded her cane on a flat rock and called “Mariko, visitors!” A ghostly woman in a many-layered loose silk gown appeared, her hair down and her eyes sad. “Mariko? My name is Yi Xing. We need your help.” A small puzzled frown crossing her face. “And we can take you to Taicho.” She gave a little cry like a wounded animal and said, “My Taicho? But where is he? I have waited so long.” “He knows not you still live. So he has given up hope and withdrawn from the world. Because of this, terrible things are about to happen.” “Happily I would come with you to find him, but I am a ghost and tied to this mound, my grave.” The immortal smiled. “There I can help. Your love has kept a spark of life within you.”
He pulled out a silk wallet, extracted a sheet of gold-flecked rice paper and folded it into a bird shape. “A phoenix rises from the ashes. Take this and think of Taicho.” She closed her eyes. The phoenix burst into flames, and the ghost went up in a flash. When our sight cleared, a young woman stood there, saying “Let’s go to him. Now.” I saw Xi Ying bow to the old woman, who bowed in return. The pale winter sunlight glinted off her silver fox brooch.
Another dark flicker and we stood below a huge old gatehouse in the middle of a traffic circle. Yi Xing took pity. “We’re still in Kyoto. This is the Suzaku Gate from the old imperial palace. The last place anyone saw Taicho.” Mariko looked around frantically, but saw only cars. Then two young Japanese in leather coats ran up to Yi Xing. “Shamus, Effie, Mariko, these are Sammi and Jozo. They are dead, but helping me out.” “Taicho gave me Twinleaf when he left the monastery,” Sammi said. “T won it from him at a game of go, but he lost on purpose. He had played the flute for me once. Unbelievable.” He shivered. “I’m a musician myself and it damn near convinced me to give up. Especially when I couldn’t play a note on it. Neither could Jozo, who played for the Emperor. Eventually we presented it to the temple.”
Yi Xing nodded. “So where is Taicho now?” Mariko spoke. “He is here. I can feel him.” She stood on the windswept pavement, trembling. A voice spoke. “Mariko?” A light went on in the dark second storey of the gatehouse. A window opened and a hideous head emerged. Green mottled skin, three red eyes, jagged teeth — and those were the pretty parts. Jozo gulped, “No wonder people never speak about the demon of the gate.” The demon leaped down and swept Mariko into his arms. “My tambo, I thought you dead.” I could see where this was going and waded in: “We’re running out of time, lovebirds, so let’s cut to the chase. You’ve been separated for a thousand years by a malevolent god. But catch up on old times later. Taicho, Hitokotonushi is breaking out of the boulder on Mount Katsuragi. We need you to play Twinleaf. Are you up for it? Most of central Japan will be slag tomorrow if you aren’t.” Taicho hadn’t for a second torn his eyes away from her face. “Yeah, fine,” he murmured, then shook himself. “But I haven’t got the shakuhachi. And the red leaf is missing too — the flute won’t sound without it.”
Yi Xing said, “We can take care of that. Sammi? Jozo?” Sammi pulled a long parcel in white silk from under his coat. “Here‘s the flute. The monks haven’t missed it yet. We’ll either get it back to them tonight or they’ll have bigger things to worry about.” Jozo added, “And the leaf is in a hidden room at Kiyomizudera. It’s a bit complicated, though…”
A few hours later, a saffron-robed bonze led us into a dim, incense-filled hall. A last ray of sunlight filtered through the forest of polished wood columns, creeping slowly closer to a golden Buddha before the east wall. The sunbeam reached a large prism in its raised left hand. “Winter solstice, the one sunset of the year this happens,” murmured Yi Xing. Split by the crystal, the light formed a rainbow. Where it stuck the far wall, five tall narrow tokonomas opened. Each held a lacquer box with a different colour, shape and pattern of decoration. Each alcove also contained a second object. The bonze said, “Time to choose. You can only open one box, and only while the sun illuminates the Buddha.” I jotted a few notes in my book.
1. The first box was gold in a flat square shape.
2. The black cubic box was immediately between the box with the chrysanthemum pattern and the one with the netsuke in the tokonoma.
3. The fourth box had a crane pattern, while the oval box was in the third tokonoma to the right of the tokonoma with the painted scroll.
4. Of the box with the maple leaf pattern, the white box and the box in the tokonoma with the sake cup, none are adjacent to any other.
5. The box with the Fuji pattern was at one end of the row, the tokonoma with the dwarf pine at the other.
6. The red box in the second tokonoma was in the shape of a miniature chest of drawers.
7. The round box with clear lacquer was in the tokonoma to the immediate left of the one with the kabuki doll.
8. The third box had a pattern of dragonflies. ureen Tire Heroic cards Ceremony, to a T Lady of culture Where you go to get grilled This one will throw you This one will floor you Negative drama Numerical nightmare Not your average pocketful of posies
But which one to open? Effie came up to me. “Shamus, that magazine the komuso gave me. On one page, someone’s written ‘When it’s time to decide’. The puzzle below is about Japanese stuff. Gotta mean something.” The puzzle had two columns, one of Japanese words, the other some odd definitions. The words and definitions didn’t match up. Effie said, “There is one more word than definition. That undefined word must be important.”
I thought about it. The basket-headed samurai couldn’t be a coincidence, not the way this caper was moving. heads together. When we solved the puzzle, the extra word did point to one of the tokonoma. As sunlight faded, Taicho stepped up to it and carefully opened the box. Out of it he plucked a bright red leaf, its surface sparkling with dew. He and Mariko drew close together. The alcoves silently closed.
Later, we were high on Mount Katsuragi. A huge, vine-covered boulder stood in a moonlit grove within the steep walls of a ravine. The vines were dry and had snapped in places. Little bits of the rock flaked off as we watched.
Taicho unwrapped the flute. Yi Xing opened his silk folder and pulled out the red leaf. Mariko took it and laid it beside its green twin. Nobody breathed, then there was a soft chime. “Thus is Twinleaf reborn,” said Taicho. He raised the shakuhachi and blew a single note, then another. Clear water, bright moonlight, birdsong at night, a lover’s kiss, I heard all these things. As he played, his eyes locked on Mariko’s, Taicho’s ugliness was replaced by a strange beauty. As she watched, you could tell this was the way she always saw him.
Can you duplicate Shamus’ feat by provid- List of Advertisers ; : ing (a) the undefined word identifying the Art Lending Of OTAWa..……0mimrirenmmmeninnn p. 26 tokonoma with the right box, and (b) the pattern on the box containing the leaf? bout de papier subscription… p. 14 plants were setting out the green shoots of bout de papier will declare a winner by Chris Coveny drawing from all correct answers received Real Estate Broker ceccecccsccscccsessesseceseeees p. 20 by February 28, 2014. The winner will Clements Worldwide. receive a book signed by A Aalto. Not Coldwell Banker necessary to win, but can you also work Patricia McKenzie, Jim McKenzie……… p. 16 out the two full charts? 2 Elizabeth Antiques Appraisal Service ……… p. 29 Free-lance prestidigitator A Aalto is Greentree & Company….……………………….…<…0000s000er p. 14 re-learning how to survive an Ottawa Group Services Insurance Brokers Ltd. ……. OBC winter after five years in the tropics. The jn trust Property Management Inc.
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Knucklesworth
Answers to Vol. 27, No. 3 Winner: Julia Drew-Watt, Ottawa The text of Van Helsing’s message reads HALL BEACH ALTERNATE NAME. The restored name for Hall Beach is Sanirajak in Nunavut, the indicated birthplace of PTIT MICHEL PETITE, who is therefore the intended victim. The full answer chart follows.
Can you duplicate Shamus’ feat by providing (a) the undefined word identifying the tokonoma with the right box, and (b) the pattern on the box containing the leaf? bout de papier will declare a winner by drawing from all correct answers received by February 28, 2014. The winner will receive a book signed by A Aalto. Not necessary to win, but can you also work out the two full charts?
Free-lance prestidigitator A Aalto is re-learning how to survive an Ottawa winter after five years in the tropics. The background of this puzzle is found in three medieval Japanese fairy tales, combined and re-written with homage to Barry Hughart. The komuso existed: originally Zen Buddhist mendicants with the basket hats and shakuhachis, they were also often disguised masterless samurai (ronin) on the prowl. Offered with respect to the foxes
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 27, No. 4 (2013) — Winter 2013–14 // Hiver 2013-2014, pp. 37–40. Read the rest of this issue →
