Then suddenly, iron bars seemed to fall out of the sky and land straight up. An iron roof slammed down on top of them, and Shea fell, rolling on an iron floor.
Monkey hit the bars of the cage with a horrendous scream, trying to reach through at Shea. When he found he could not, he leaped back and assaulted the cage with a dozen blows. Shea shrank into a little ball in the center as bars bent and the roof dented—but they held. Finally, the Monkey King ran out of gas and leaned on his staff, glaring at Shea through the bars and panting. Then he began to scream. "Round-eyed barbarian! Foul dungheap! Bag of offal!" He went on like that for a little while.
Shea waited it out, remembering Cyrano's comeback. When the little blighter finally shut up, he said, "You are? Well, I'm Harold Shea." He held out a hand.
Monkey nearly came through the bars, screaming again. "Foul, mannerless thief! I am the Monkey King, as you well know, and I shall tear this cage apart and rip you limb from limb!"
At a guess, he had not had a good day. Shea tried to remember that he was a psychologist and asked, "Why?"
Monkey stared, at a loss for a few seconds. Then he snapped: "Because you have trespassed on my mountain, and insulted me to boot!"
Shea did not feel it was tactful to point out that the only insults Monkey had received were the ones he had given, coming back at him. "I'm sorry about that—but we were looking for a friend of ours, who became lost."
Monkey frowned. "Why would you think he was on my mountain?"
"She, actually—and we just followed her trail, in a manner of speaking."
"A magical trail?" Monkey looked sharply at him. "You are a sorcerer, then."
"Just a general all-purpose magician."
"What is the woman to you?"
"My wife," Chalmers said behind him.
Monkey spun about, his cudgel coming up, but he only glowered at the older man and asked: "What was her appearance?"
"About this tall." Chalmers held up his hand. "Slender, with brown hair."
"And pale skin, and round eyes, like yourself?" Monkey nodded. "I came upon her on my way here."
"Really?" Chalmers leaped on it. "Where was she going?"
"Nowhere; she was beset by bandits. I was angry at bandits, for six of them had just tried to kill Tripitaka, the monk whom Buddha bade me accompany, and I slew them for it. Then the foolish bonze had the audacity to rebuke me! Rebuke me! For saving his life!"
Chalmers was in an agony of impatience to learn about Florimel, but Shea realized he was going to have to bring Monkey back to the topic gradually. "Maybe he had a good reason."
"Good reason! No, nothing more than that I could have spared those outlaws, could have disabled them as easily as slaying them! As though you should spare the life of someone who attacks you, simply because it is not necessary to kill him!"
"That does make sense," Shea said, "provided you think human life is something worthwhile in its own right."
Monkey's teeth writhed back, jeering. "I should expect your kind to think so."
"Well, yes, we do have a certain vested interest in human life. But maybe that's why Buddha assigned you to this monk."
Monkey frowned. "Why, how is that?"
"To learn Buddha's morality." Shea realized that he must be crazy, talking about Buddha as though the sage were still alive, and were something more than a myth—but maybe he was, in this universe. After all, his first trip by syllogismobile had taken him to a universe where the Norse gods were real. Anyway, he had to talk to Monkey on the beast's own terms. "Didn't he say anything about why you were supposed to go with the monk?"
Monkey glowered. "Something, aye."
"Was it Buddha who turned you into stone, too?" Mind you, Shea did not believe for an instant that something so alive as Monkey could really be made out of stone ...
... or maybe he could. After all, each universe had its own physics, its own principles. Why could not a living creature be made of stone? Maybe, to Monkey, Shea seemed odd, being made of soft tissue.
"Nay," Monkey said. "I was born so—if 'born' is the word for it."
" 'Hatched,' maybe?"
Monkey stared. "How did you know?"
Now Shea stared. "You don't mean you came out of an egg!"
"Aye.' Monkey sat down on his heels, grinning. "When the world was made, O Foolish Barbarian, there was made with it a huge egg of stone. For eons it stood, alone and waiting; then finally, when men had appeared upon the Earth, that egg broke open, and out tumbled myself—the Stone Monkey."
Shea tried to keep the look of disbelief off his face. After all, if monkeys could talk here, why couldn't one have hatched out of a stone egg? "How did you become king of the monkeys?"
"Shortly after I wakened, a band of them came tumbling along, playing as they went. They told me I was one of them, and brought me to look in a still pool. I saw that I was a monkey, too, and went with them a while—but I learned how sore beset they were, by tiger and by wolf, and began to wonder how to make them sale. Then, one day, we came to play near a Water Curtain ..."
"A water curtain?"
"A sheet of water that fell from a great height, fool! I wondered what lay behind that veil, and plucked up my courage to leap through it. I find myself here, on this mountain of eternal spring, then leaped back through the veil, to find them mourning me. They rejoiced to see me still alive, and followed me through the Water Curtain—with some trepidation, it must be admitted, but with willingness to follow. When they saw how rich and safe a place I had provided for them, they made me their king."
"Sounds great." Shea frowned. "But so far, I don't see anything Buddha should have punished you for."
"Nay. That came later, after some years, when I had begun to chafe at my life here, and to find it growing tedious. I wished to learn more of the world, and I wished to learn how to keep my monkeys safe from the occasional bear that stumbled through the Curtain. I heard of a sage in the south, the Patriarch Subodhi, who could teach me magic, so I departed from my little monkeys and went to him."
"Studying magic?" Shea frowned. "I begin to see possibilities for mischief."
"I assure you, I was the best-mannered of monkeys! The Patriarch took me as his disciple, and I studied as hard as, or harder than, any of the others. At last I came to so much knowledge of the Way of Virtue that he gave me a name-in-religion—I am the disciple Aware-of-Vacuity."
"Vacuity?" Shea frowned. "Why is it important to become aware of emptiness?"
"Because until you know that you are empty, you cannot begin to be filled. But I, having reached this stage, desired to demonstrate for my fellow disciples how much I had learned—so I displayed all the marvels that I could now work, as a result of the Patriarch's teaching."
A show-off, Shea realized. "I take it the Patriarch didn't like that too much?"
"Nay, he cast me out from his presence." Monkey grinned again. "Why should I care? I had learned the magic I sought. I came back to my mountains, and found my little monkeys sorely beset. I chased away the wild beasts and taught them Mock Combat, so that they would be able to practice Real Combat, if it ever became necessary—as it has, many times since."
"I take it you were planning to go on your travels again."
"Aye, for it is the way of monkeys to become easily bored. I flew to beset the Dragon of the Southern Ocean, defeated him, and exacted tribute from him ..." Monkey brandished his cudgel. "... this iron staff, that can grow amazingly when I wish it."
"Correct me if I am wrong," Chalmers said slowly, trying to hide his impatience, "but I thought dragons were heavenly creatures, in Chi ... in this country."
"They are." Monkey's grin grew savage. "The Jade Emperor of Heaven therefore invited me to take a place in his realm, so that I would cease to bedevil his subjects."
"The direct route to heaven?" Shea stared. "And you didn't stay?"