The Last Hope

28. The Lord's Letter

"Alright, the fire's out," Ling announced, crushing the last embers with his foot.
In front of them was a pile of ash, eerily quiet and lifeless.
"Now what?" Ling wanted to know.
The old goat got up from the stone. "Now, after this is over, don't call me Soothsayer anymore. Call me Ān-Mā."
"Ān-Mā?" Ling looked at his great-aunt in surprise. "You haven't had that name since the day you..."
"That's right. Not since I left my job at the orphanage. The kids liked calling me that." She smiled slightly. "And maybe the little ones will like it, too."
Ling raised an eyebrow. "You mean Shen's children?"
She nodded. "But not just for the little ones." She turned away. "So I'll do that now, too."
"Mmm? What will you do?"
"What I should have done years ago."
Slowly, she moved a foot forward and walked away, while Ling looked after her helplessly. "Uh, what should you have done years ago?"

"I don't mean to sound curious," Ling murmured. They were back in the house in the city while his great-aunt rummaged through a shelf for something. "But don't you want to explain to me exactly what you're planning to do now?" Ling asked further.
"We are no longer looking in the future," Ān-Mā announced in a slow voice, "but in the past."
With these words, she held up a long peacock feather.
Ling's eyes widened. "Uh, who's that from?"
"By Lord Liang," the old goat said. "He gave it to me as a gift many years ago."
She remained silent, prompting Ling to continue to pierce her with questions. "And what exactly do you intend to do with it now?"
Ān-Mā went to the door. "Come with me."

Ān-Mā had no problem finding the relevant stone in the wall that opened the gate to the family archive. She was so familiar with royalty that there was almost nothing she didn't know. And as soon as the gate was open, she and her grandnephew walked down the long corridor that led diagonally down. When they reached the large door in the next wall, the old goat placed the long peacock feather on a flat long slab of stone on the floor, which set the mechanism in motion. The painted peacock on the stone slab, which representing the door, rose majestically before them, like a silent sentinel, and suddenly, it came alive as it slid aside. The room beyond was in complete darkness and smelled of old paper and cold stone.
"Now what?" Ling asked. "What exactly are we looking for here?"
Ān-Mā lifted the lantern higher and illuminated the small hall, which was lined with shelves of scrolls. Then she swung the light onto the portrait of Shen's parents. "Ling, I can't get my mind off what Shen's father watched years ago before he died," she said quietly. "Something which he kept so under wraps that he didn't want anyone ever to find out. And if he hasn't removed it yet, then..."
She put the lantern down on the ground and rested her hooves on the corner of the portrait. Then she pressed against it with all her strength, so that the picture was pushed slightly into an inclined position. Ān-Mā paused as the hole in the wall behind appeared in front of her. Holding her breath, she looked inside and let out a deep sigh of relief. "It's still there. – Ling, hold the picture, please."
Ling did her the favor. As he held the large portrait at the other corner, the old goat reached into the niche with trembling hooves and pulled out something black boxy.
Ling eyed the black box curiously. "Uh, what's that?" he asked, releasing the painting.
Ān-Mā wiped over the box, which a thick layer of dust had formed. She blew hard on it once and the cloud of dust swirled around her in the lantern light.
Ling had to cough briefly. Then she put it down on the ground and looked at it thoughtfully. Ling didn't want to disturb her and kept his mouth shut.
Ān-Mā looked up at the painting of Lord Liang and Lady Ai. She looked down ruefully. "Please forgive me this." With that, she knelt down and opened the box. Ling craned his neck. Inside lay a rolled up piece of paper. The goat took it out carefully, as if afraid it might fall apart.
"Uh, what's that?" Ling narrowed his eyes and nudged the lantern closer. A feather lay on the bottom of the box. More precisely, a small blue feather.
"That's what I want to find out, Ling," Ān-Mā explained. She was totally excited inside. For one thing, she felt guilty about snooping around in the former lord's private belongings, but what the lord kept hidden here would not let her rest until she died. "I just couldn't shake the feeling that those two things were connected."
She took another deep breath, then she unrolled the paper and scanned the first few lines.
Ling looked at her curiously. "So, what is that?"
"It's a letter from Lord Liang to his wife Ai," the old goat stated. "Probably some kind of farewell letter, in case he dies before her."
Lin frowned. "But Lady Ai died before him. Accordingly, she had never read this document. But why did the lord keep it if it was only meant for his wife?"
Ān-Mā made no reply. Her eyes darted over the graphic characters on the old letter, but then her reading speed slowed and she even seemed to read a few lines twice or even three times. Ling waited patiently; pretty sure she was about to read it to him.
"Good gracious!" the goat cried. Her eyes looked shocked.
"What is it?" Ling wanted to know.
"We have to go to the Valley of Peace right away!" Hurriedly, the goat ran to the exit and even forgot to take the lantern with her.
"What is it?!" Ling called after her. "What is written there?! Hey! Wait a moment! What are you running for?" His eyes fell on the box. "Do you want to take the box with you?"
When he still didn't get an answer, he grabbed both things and raced outside after his excited great-aunt.