Chalmers blanched—he knew very well how much could go wrong.
Monkey nodded, satisfied. "Truly said. Indeed, there are some puzzles that are best solved by the use of brute force."
Pigsy strolled in, grinning. "It is done. Master. The prince had passed by on his homeward course before the spies who followed him began to regain their senses."
"But there was no killing?" Tripitaka asked anxiously.
"Not even by accident," Pigsy said regretfully. "In fact, I'm sure none of them even saw me."
"Pigsy," said Monkey, "would you like to find a buried treasure?"
Pigsy's little eyes expanded amazingly. "A treasure! Gold and gems, all for myself? Where is it, Monkey? Tell me, tell me!"
"I'll do better than that," Monkey said. "I'll show you." He turned to Shea. "Would you care to accompany us, Wizard?"
Shea knew better than to decline.
The moon was high when the three bats landed near the grassy mound with the mulberry sapling on top, in the center of the palace gardens. They crouched on the ground, then expanded amazingly into Monkey, Pigsy, and Shea. Shea was almost regretful about it—he had enjoyed the bat's soaring even more than the housefly's buzzing. On the other hand, that was definitely the kind of spell that could get him into trouble in other universes, including his own.
"It is under here," Monkey told Pigsy.
"Stand back, then." The pig-face grinned, showing tusks. "We shall uncover it quickly." He yanked the sapling out by the roots and tossed it over his shoulder. Shea jumped back in alarm, and so did Monkey. Good thing, too—Pigsy got busy with the muck-rake, and the dirt flew out in a continuous stream. Quickly, the whole of the mound disappeared. Then the muckrake thudded on wood, and Pigsy frowned. "Wooden boards? What is this?"
"A well cover. Monkey stepped up and, with one titanic heave, flipped the cover off the well.
Shea glanced up at the walls nervously. How could the sentries help but notice?
Foolish question. With a magician like Monkey beside him? Why did he bother asking?
"Down there?" Pigsy looked down, frowning. "You did not tell me anything about a swim, little brother!"
"Why should it bother you?" Monkey asked. "You've done your share of diving in your time. Down with you, Pigsy! The treasure is at the bottom of the well!"
"If you say so," Pigsy grunted, and dove in with a splash that Shea could have sworn must have waked the sorcerer-king—but there was no reaction, no cry of alarm, no gongs sounding. In fact, he heard nothing. Nothing but night-birds—and no sound from the well. When he was sure five minutes had passed, he said, "Has he drowned?"
"He can hold his breath far longer than this," Monkey assured him. "Do not fear for our brutish companion, Xei—and do not worry; it is a deep well."
Very deep; another five minutes must have passed before a bloated body suddenly shot from the surface of the well with a huge splash. Shea flinched back in sheer reflex, then realized that the body was hanging from the prongs of a muck-rake. Pigsy's head was right behind it. "This was all I found! Where is the treasure. Monkey?"
"Why, this is it." Monkey pulled the dead body onto the well-curb.
"What! Nothing but this? Monkey, you lied to me!"
"It is for the best," Monkey assured him. "What would you have done with gold and jewels, anyhow? We could not take time to spend them."
"You tricked me! You bamboozled me!"
"We had to have this body," Monkey explained, laying out the dead king on the ground, "and you are a far better swimmer than I."
"I'll get even," Pigsy growled. "You see if I don't!"
Shea looked at the drowned body, then looked away again, shuddering. It was swollen, bloated, and the color of a fish's belly. Still ... "It's in strangely good shape for a three-year-old corpse, Monkey."
"It is." The stone simian frowned. "Almost as though a magician had cast a spell of preservation over it—or as though Yama, King of the Dead, had not yet taken his due." He looked up at Shea, brooding. "Perhaps he knows something that we do not."
"Maybe," Shea agreed, feeling a prickling of dread envelop his back and neck. "Let's get the stiff out of here, Monkey, okay?"
For some reason, the sentries were all looking the other way as Shea and Monkey hoisted the dead king over the garden wall and off into the night. They must have been selectively deaf, too, for Pigsy was not worrying about how loud he was grumbling.
"It is he, even as he appeared in my dream!" Tripitaka shuddered, staring at the dead body before him. "In truth, his body does not appear anywhere nearly as ravaged as I dreaded. What could have caused this. Monkey? Why would Yama not have taken his due of it?"
Monkey shrugged, for once without an answer.
But Chalmers was not. "Could it be," he said slowly, "that the King is only in some sort of coma?"
Shea looked up, frowning. "No, impossible, Doc! Even a body in coma has to breathe! Besides, he's bloated."
Tripitaka looked from one to the other, frowning. "What is a coma"?
"A state of unconciousness," Chalmers explained, "much deeper than sleep, but still just barely living. It usually ends in death, though the body may linger for years. Sometimes, though, occasionally, very rarely, a person will come out of a coma, and regain full use of his faculties."
"A deathlike sleep?" Tripitaka frowned. "How could the dead return to life?"
Pigsy saw his chance. "Why, just ask Monkey, master! He can bring the dead to life! Just ask him!"
"Be still, lump of lard!" Monkey frowned. "I can do no such thing!"
"Oh, aye, he will deny it!" Pigsy jibed. "But he has been in Heaven, and even in the laboratory of Lao Tzu! If anyone can bring the dead back to life, he can!"
"What nonsense are you speaking, fool!" Monkey barked. "Only Yama can bring the dead back to life!"
"Oh, of course he will deny it!" Pigsy cried. "But only say the magic words, Master! Invoke the spell of the golden headband! Make it tighten about his temples, and he will admit the truth!"
Tripitaka, looking very stern, began to recite the rhyme.
"Master, no!" Monkey cried in a panic. "He speaks only in spite, he seeks revenge because I tricked him into ... Aieeee!" He fell on the ground, clutching his temples and shrieking. Pigsy laughed, enjoying the sight immensely.
"Speak truth, Monkey," Tripitaka said sternly. "If you can raise the dead, it is needful that you do so!"
"I can, I can!" Monkey cried. "I will find a way! I will bring the dead king back to life, if I have to go to Yama himself to demand it! Only make the pain stop, Master!"
With a curt nod, Tripitaka recited the counterspell. Monkey went limp with relief.
"Remember your promise now, Monkey," Pigsy jeered. "Raise the dead king to life!"
Monkey leaped to his feet, eyes glowing fiery red, and ran at Pigsy with a bellow.
"Disciple!" Tripitaka snapped, and Monkey came to an instant halt, shouting, "I will be revenged on you, Pigsy!"
"Did you speak of revenge?" Tripitaka demanded in dire tones, and Monkey froze. Then, slowly, he turned and bowed to Tripitaka. "I shall do your bidding, Master."
Behind him, Pigsy snickered.
Tripitaka eyed him coldly. "I shall deal with you later."
Pigsy blanched.
Tripitaka turned back to his smallest disciple. "How shall you do this thing, Monkey?"
"There are only two ways," Monkey sighed. "The one is to go into the Abode of the Dead, and beg Yama to restore the soul to the body—but Yama has no reason to grant our request, and is very stingy with the souls he has gathered."
"Agreed," Tripitaka said slowly.
"The only other way," Monkey said, "is to force my way into Heaven and beg a grain of Life-Restoring Elixir from Lao-Tzu—and that is what I must do. I know the way, for I have been in Heaven before."