Play@YSDC

Samuel Grey whispers to Elisabeth: "For God's sake, dear, don't do anything silly--I'm talking about this mummy and daddy business--a ten year old child and a bloody da--- a foreigner. Just think what you are doing and how it will affect your mother."

"The risk involved in returning to the Golden Pumpkin . . ." muses Prof. Pavlov. "We could transfer money to Cheng Kung University Hospital in Chengchow? I know Mr. Norrin,--a reliable man--one of the governers. We can send him messages, too, Señor el Aguila"

Santiago gathers the weapons and goes outside. [ooc: Move to topic "Oil and Cloth."]

Father Anselm says to Renwick: "We have a dispensary, Doctor, you are welcome to make use of it."



Mae appears in the doorway. "Doctor Renwick, can I have a word."

I rise as Mae speaks, nodding my assent before I say "Of course my dear, would you prefer somewhere more private?"

"Relax, Father," Elisabeth whispers back, "I shall do nothing improper." Maybe he'll warm up to Santiago afterwards, once he sees how he has kept me safe, she thinks. He doesn't usually express disdain towards foreigners, but he's probably just being overprotective. "Yes, Professor, wiring money to Chengchow is an excellent idea." she says to Pavlov. "Do you need my help again, Doctor?" she asks Dr. Renwick. "We'd better treat everyone who needs it before we set out on our journey. I've had a bit of a chill myself since last night."

Santiago said [previously]:"Are we to return to the station by the Golden Pumpkin to pick up the train

"I could take you in the truck to the next station down the line," says Father Pierrepont.

• ~

"Yes," answers Mae, "follow me."

Samuel Grey hugs Elisabeth. "I know I can trust you. I'm sorry,--a little stressed!--and I am thankful we had Señor el Aguila with us last night. He is a good man."

"Consider it done, Miss Grey," smiles Prof. Pavlov.

"Thank you, Professor," says Elisabeth, smiling back. "It's all right, Father. Yes, we owe Señor el Aguila our lives, and I'm certain we can depend on him to protect me."

"Certainly Mae." I say following her out of the room.

"Oh, we'll also need a pair of wedding rings!" says Elisabeth. "Otherwise, someone might see through the charade."

[ooc: Renwick, move to topic "Miss Harriet."]

"'Wedding rings'! chortles Mr. Grey. "Hmmm . . . you're right, of course; but how on earth are you to find them?--especially in a Catholic Mission."

Mingzhu, who is giggling with Posie, says: "Let's check out the dispensary, Elisabeth, and get something for your chill and my cut feet. It looks like Doctor Renwick is busy."

"Please, do so, if you wish," adds Father Anselm.

"Well, we'd have to borrow them from people who've already got them," says Elisabeth. "That's a lot to ask someone to part with, though. There's also the fact that I'm much too young to be Posie's natural mother, so our cover story will have to be that Santiago was a widower before I married him if anyone asks. Well, I'd better go to the dispensary while we have time. If you'll excuse me..." She goes with Mingzhu to the dispensary.

In the dispensary--

Elisabeth and Mingzhu scan the shelves for a suitable medicine; unfortunately, many items are in plain white boxes with French written instructions.

"You've got you very own Errol Flynn in Santiago!" says Mingzhu, gently teasing Elisabeth. "Do you think he will really marry you?"

At last they find a remedy for coughs and colds, and an antiseptic.

"A girl can dream, can't she?" says Elisabeth with a smile. "He does like me, but I don't know yet if he's in love with me, or will fall in love with me. I guess we'll see what develops on our journey. Here, let me look at your feet first." She takes the antiseptic and puts some on Mingzhu's cuts, then bandages them, but there's a limit to what she can do. "Maybe Dr. Renwick can do more for you when he returns." She measures out the proper dose of the cough medicine and takes it, and it does the trick. She feels completely better.

"Talking of dreaming, did you really dream of Chunhua?" asks Mingzhu, stretching her toes gingerly.

"I did," says Elisabeth, "but I can't imagine why. I hardly had anything to do with her. I don't think we were even introduced, yet she knew who I was. She seemed to be aware that she was supposed to be dead too. I don't know why she gave me this message from beyond the grave."

"'Aware that she was supposed to be dead'" mutters Mingzhu, staring at the polished tiles as she repeats Elisabeth's words. "Huh! Ghosts aren't aware they are ghosts . . . I mean, they just replay a moment, without any thoughts of their own, like actors on film. But dreaming is your unconscious mind, your imagination?"

"That's what they say," says Elisabeth, "but she told me about Khotan, and I'd never heard of it before. That's why I think this was more than just a dream. I wouldn't know if ghosts never know that they are ghosts; I've never met one before. Have you?"

Mingzhu looks at Elisabeth, turns away, and the begins shyly: "Last week I was visited by a ghost, or something. Oh, Elisabeth, do you think I am mad; do you believe?"

'I don't think you're mad, Mingzhu," says Elisabeth. "I might not have believed before I had that dream, but I do now. What happened with the ghost?"

"Father had a home outside Peking, a courtyard surrounded by two-story pavilions, in a garden beside a stream. After dinner, he and Chunhua went for a walk in the grounds, I went up to my room, to smoke, and read the latest "Modern Screen" magazine. I fell asleep. I dreamt of a child, a frightened girl, lost in a forest of tamarisk; and the child, when she realised there was no way back, began to dance!"--Mingzhu frowns at the memory. "I woke with a start, my room was cold because the window had become unfastened. And that is when I saw the ghost: a hunched creature with feathered wings; it was perched upon the window sill. It's head turned toward me, and I saw the eyes flash as they watched me. Then, it fell, and I ran to the window, just in time to catch sight of it's shadow as it silently flew away."

"Feathered wings?" asks Elisabeth. "That sounds unusual. How did you know it was a ghost and not...some sort of living creature?"

"Well, it must be a ghost, what else could it have been?" answers Mingzhu unimaginatively.

"I am going to find Mrs. Quan, to see if she can spare any food."