Malao looked to his left. “Where? I don't see it.”
Charles shook his head. “How many times do I have to tell you, Malao? Starboard means ‘right.’ ”
“Oh,” Malao said.
Fu grabbed a rope and walked to the starboard side. “That building is huge. It's a medicine store?”
“Yes,” Charles said. “An apothecary. I've never seen another one even close to this size. PawPaw was right—I'm sure Hok wouldn't be able to resist it.”
“Where do we dock?” Malao asked.
“Wherever we can find a space,” Charles replied. “There,” he said, pointing to a small slip a few hundred paces upstream. “That will do nicely. All hands on deck!”
Fu uncoiled a section of his rope near the bow, and Malao hurried to do the same at the stern. Charles fought back a grin. Fu and Malao might have been landlubbers, but they were becoming surprisingly good sailors. Fu was incredibly strong and could lift things even Charles couldn't manage, while Malao was as happy as a clam up in the rigging, often swinging around at perilous heights for fun. Thanks to them, Charles was able to make it down the coast and to Hangzhou in record time.
Charles steered his boat into the slip and jumped ashore. Fu tossed him a line, and Charles tied off the bow. Malao threw his rope, and Charles tied off the stern. He motioned for Fu and Malao to come ashore, too.
Charles stepped away from the dock's edge and fought back another grin. They had been at sea almost two weeks without setting foot on dry land. It would be amusing to see what happened when Fu's and Malao's legs hit solid ground.
Malao leaped onto the dock first, landing in a low crouch. As soon as he stood up, he began to weave like a drunkard. He took a tentative step forward, then toppled over, giggling.
“What's gotten into you?” Fu grumbled from the boat.
Malao looked at him and kept giggling.
Fu rolled his eyes and climbed ashore. As he straightened, Fu started to weave back and forth, too, his legs wobbling.
“What the—” Fu began to say.
“Sea legs,” Charles said. “It will take a few hours for you to get used to solid ground again. By tomorrow morning, you'll be back to your old self.”
Fu stepped forward hesitantly and growled, “I don't like this.”
Malao giggled some more and stood. He took several steps forward, wobbling exaggeratedly. “I do,” he said.
“It figures,” Fu replied.
“That's enough fun for now,” Charles said. “Let's go inside.”
Fu sniffed the air. “Wait, I smell chicken cooking. I hope the apothecary has a food stand.”
Charles shook his head. He reached into the pouch tied to his sash and handed Fu a few coins, then pointed upstream. “I believe the food stand is that way. It's not too far. Get whatever you'd like, and bring me something, too. Fish balls on a stick, if they have some.”
Malao made a sour face. “Fish balls?”
Charles sighed. “Balls of fish meat, marinated in soy sauce and cooked on a grill. They are quite tasty. You should try some.” He pointed to the apothecary. “I'm going in there to see if I can learn any news about Hok. Meet me inside.”
“Okay,” Malao said. He walked away with Fu at his side, both of them weaving like flags in the wind.
Charles headed for the apothecary. He stepped through a pair of enormous red doors, and his senses were immediately assaulted by a complex combination of sights, sounds, and smells. The air was thick with a spiced perfume made from a thousand different herbs that had been dried, ground, and mixed into a hundred thousand combinations. He heard people talking loudly in different languages, discussing treatments for everything from sour stomachs to head aches to bed-wetting. Barrels and other containers of every size and color were stacked to the ceiling, forming narrow walkways that meandered through the building like tracks left by a dizzy snake. It was almost overwhelming.
Charles got his bearings and headed into the maze of aisles in search of a shopkeeper. He tried his best to remember the way back to the front door.
After innumerable twists and turns, Charles spotted someone who might be in charge. He was an older man with thinning gray hair, and he stood behind the longest counter Charles had ever seen. The man was gingerly taking small terra-cotta bottles out from under the counter and placing them on the counter-top for a customer to inspect.
Charles watched the customer carefully pull a stopper out of one of the bottles and adjust an extraor dinarily long ponytail braid. Charles stared at the man's clothes. He was wearing a soldier's uniform. It was Tonglong.
Charles turned to hurry away when he heard Tonglong speak. Charles only caught one word, but it was enough to make him start creeping back toward Tonglong to see if he could hear more. That word was “Hok.”