The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water - Zen Cho Page 0,14

will get to examine the goods before paying,” he continued. “But I want to see the money first. You haven’t shown any proof of who you’re acting for.”

Ng flushed, but he glanced back at the shop, where the tailor and his sons were at work. Mr Tan and his sons were each six feet tall and half again as wide, and their custom came entirely from the town’s rich families, who were connected with the Tang wealthy all over the peninsula—a golden network, exerting significant influence even in these troubled times.

The thought of the tailor’s dependency on his boss no doubt comforted Ng. He reached into his robes, producing a handful of cash.

“The rest is in a chest in front there,” he said, jerking his head at the shop. “Mr Tan is looking after it for me.”

“The balance, as agreed?” said Tet Sang. They had already been paid half the purchase price as a deposit.

“You can count the money when I’ve examined the goods,” said Ng.

Tet Sang nodded. He put his pack on the table between them and lifted out the goods one by one. They were wrapped in cloth, so he did not need to touch them directly. But though it was through him that Fung Cheung had got the goods, Tet Sang had had nothing more to do with them since, except to carry the pack. He was not prepared for the faint scent of incense that rose from the bundles.

It was like being punched in the gut. He froze, bent over and gasping. While he breathed through the shock, Ng reached out, a covetous light in his eye.

Ng pulled back the cloth on a bundle, revealing a gold chalice carved in the form of a lotus. It was exquisite—the product of years of painstaking work by craftswomen of the highest order—but the real treasure was tucked in the heart of the lotus, cradled by its petals.

“Ah!” breathed Ng. Recollecting himself, he assumed an unimpressed air. “You have proof that’s real gold?”

Tet Sang gave him an incredulous look. Before he could answer, a screech like the battle cry of a cat made them jump. A grey-robed wind swept through the room, seizing the chalice.

“Oi!” shouted Ng.

Guet Imm ignored him. She was staring at Tet Sang, her eyes like holes burnt in parchment.

“What are you doing?” she said. “This is a sacred relic of the deity!”

“Who the fuck are you?” said Ng. He turned to Tet Sang. “Who the fuck is this? Do you know her?”

Tet Sang should have known this would happen. He thought of the willow tree at the shop entrance.

But he couldn’t blame the deity. The decision to let Guet Imm come along had been all his own.

“She’s a nun, obviously,” he said. “I told you the goods were authentic.”

“How dare you try to sell the deity’s sarira?” said Guet Imm to Tet Sang. Ng might have been invisible for all the attention she paid him. “It’s beyond value! Where did you even get it?”

“Where do you usually get relics?” said Tet Sang.

“What do you think you’re doing?” said Ng sharply.

Guet Imm was scrabbling through the bundles, tearing off the cloth. An embarrassment of riches spilt out onto the table—jade prayer beads, engraved gold plate, a prayer wheel studded with jewels, an exquisite porcelain statue of the Pure Moon. The nun made a huffy yowl of outrage at each treasure that emerged.

“You looted a tokong,” she snarled at Tet Sang. “You—you blasphemer! The deity should strike you down!”

“Take your hands off those things,” said Ng. “They belong to my boss!”

He strode over to the table, snatching up the prayer beads, but he couldn’t manage to get anything else. Guet Imm was busy rewrapping the statue in cloth but somehow managed to keep it and the other artefacts out of Ng’s reach without any apparent effort. Turning red, Ng raised his hand.

Guet Imm was being annoying, and the word blasphemer had stung Tet Sang out of all proportion to its proper force. But if there was going to be a fight, he would prefer that she was not involved. He caught Ng’s hand before the man could do anything foolish with it.

“You’re being a little premature, Mr Ng,” said Tet Sang. “You never paid yet also.”

Ng glared at him, pop-eyed. “You—! Do you want this eight hundred cash or not?”

“You’re selling these things for eight hundred cash?” said Guet Imm, raising her head. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Listen to the nun!” said Ng. “My boss is no fool. If I