“Oh, no. I think the plan makes no sense,” said Fung Cheung. “But to tell the truth, Ah Sang, I don’t know what to do also.” He raised his eyes to the sky. The full moon rode low among the clouds, giving off a white glow as pure as the light of the goddess’s face was said to be. “Since we are here anyway, it’s worth a shot. Who knows? Maybe Fate will give us a break.”
Here was the power of Guet Imm’s faith again, thought Tet Sang—or in other words, the power of superstition.
They decided that Guet Imm and Tet Sang would pay the visit. At least if they were hauled off by the mata, Fung Cheung would not be involved.
“Even if she sent us away, Sister Anitya wouldn’t dothat,” said Guet Imm, but she didn’t object to it being the two of them. “I don’t think Brother Lau’s face would make much difference to her. She is not the kind to be swayed by that sort of thing.”
But Fung Cheung’s approval did little to lighten the atmosphere in the camp. Ah Yee was morose, despite the apology Guet Imm had made, and he was not the only one who was unhappy. A lingering discontent hung over the men.
“That woman has spoilt our peace,” said Rimau.
If this troubled Guet Imm, she did not show it. It seemed to be Tet Sang alone who felt himself to be on a fool’s mission when they set off for Yeoh Gaik Tin’s house. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that Yeoh Gaik Tin must indeed be an unusual person, if she was living with neither her husband’s nor her own family but had set up her own household.
It was an elderly woman who opened the door. She looked them over, frowning. From her aged samfu, she appeared to be an old retainer.
Tet Sang had left behind his parang and borrowed Fung Cheung’s second-best set of robes. From the neck down, he looked respectable, even prosperous: “You could be a sundry shop owner,” said Guet Imm approvingly.
But there was nothing to be done about Tet Sang’s face. It clearly did not strike the maidservant as the face of a sundry shop owner. Her expression did not grow any more welcoming when her eyes moved to Guet Imm.
“Yes, I’m sure you want to see the mistress of the house,” she said when Guet Imm repeated her request. “A lot of nuns and monks want to see Madam Yeoh. But who are you?”
Guet Imm glanced at Tet Sang.
“I’m an old friend,” she said. “Tell her it’s Sister Nirodha. She will remember me.”
The maidservant snorted. “You’ll be surprised how many con artists in mendicant robes are ‘old friends’ of Madam Yeoh. She spent five years in that tokong, and apparently she met every religious on the peninsula. I suppose you’ll say you are also from the Order of the Pure Moon?”
“Auntie, what else can I say but the truth?” said Guet Imm, wide-eyed. “I won’t say I was Madam Yeoh’s good friend—”
“Ha!”
“But I really knew her,” Guet Imm continued. “Please, can’t you ask her and see what she says?”
The old retainer glared at her. “So, you’re not here to beg for money?”
If Tet Sang had thought Guet Imm would be tripped up by this, or even blush, he had thought too little of her (or perhaps too much). She drew herself up, the picture of outraged innocence.
“Beg for money! Auntie, these other nuns and monks who came may not have been sincere, but you must notjudge my heart by such people. I have travelled for days so I can see Sister Anitya’s face again.”
“Who are these people, Second Aunt?” said a new voice.
A woman stood at the bottom of the steps leading to the main door. She wore an Occidental-style dress, expensively simple, with gold bangles on her wrists and jade drops in her ears. She gave an overmastering impression of elegance—an elegance that had no need of youth or beauty, since it had its source in power.
“Who else? More of your beggars,” said the elderly woman, evidently no retainer after all. “This girl says she knows you, Ah Tin.”
Yeoh Gaik Tin raised a perfect eyebrow. “But I don’t know her.”
Guet Imm gave her a burning look of betrayal. “Oh, Sister Anitya!”
“I told you and your father so many times already,” said the aunt. “So long as you give people money, they will keep coming. You cannot feed every monk and nun in the country.”
Yeoh Gaik Tin said to Guet Imm, “How did you know my Ascended name?” But then her eyes met Tet Sang’s. They widened.
“We were at the same tokong, sister,” said Guet Imm. “I’m Sister Guet Imm; Nirodha was my Ascended name. Don’t you remember? I’m sure we overlapped for a year. Six months at the very least!”
Yeoh Gaik Tin was not listening. Her hand had flown to her mouth.
“Sister Khanti!” she said. She went up the steps, reaching out, but stopped short of touching Tet Sang. She stood gazing at him as though he were a precious object—a marvel she had not thought to see. “You survived!”
