“There’s a party of bandits washing at the river,” said Rimau. “They have a camp here. I could smell smoke from their fires. Lucky thing they didn’t see me!”
He was pale. A handful of Malayu had joined the fight for the Reformist cause, but the majority of bandits were Tang and distrusted the Malayu as sympathizers with the Protectorate, if not actual collaborators. The bandits had attacked Rimau’s own village on the suspicion that the villagers had been giving the mata intelligence on bandit hideouts.
But if Rimau had particular reason to be afraid, none of the group desired a meeting with the bandits. While in theory the Reformist struggle could not succeed without the support of the masses, by this time most bandits had contracted a jaundiced view of the people, regarding them as unpredictable sources of food, supplies and betrayal. This made bandits difficult to deal with.
It had not improved the men’s mood to be told they could not rest after a long, sweaty, leech-infested day hacking their way through inhospitable forest, because they must run from the bandits. They were in no temper to be told that their march to Kempas had ended in failure—there was no Yeoh Thean Tee to be appealed to.
Fung Cheung had swallowed his own disappointment by the time he made the announcement to the group. He put on a tolerable pretence of regarding Yeoh Thean Tee’s absence as a small matter. “He’s only gone for three weeks. We can make the deal when he comes back.”
“But in the meantime, how?” demanded Ah Yee. “We’re supposed to hang around in the bushes for three weeks?”
Fung Cheung gave him a look of surprise. “You thought what, we were going to check in to an inn?”
Rimau snorted, but none of the other men so much as smiled, even Ah Hin.
“This is too much, brother,” said Ah Yee. “My mosquito bites have mosquito bites. Suffering for a purpose I don’tmind, but who says Mr Yeoh will pay us even when he comes back?”
“I say,” said Fung Cheung, unruffled. “You worry too much, Ah Yee.” He reached into his robes and produced a bag, which jingled as he threw it at Ah Yee.
Ah Yee caught it, startled.
“These mosquito bites are making you bad-tempered,” said Fung Cheung. “You’d better go find a herbalist in town and buy some medicine. There’s a cream in a green pot that’s very good, my mother used to use. Get us a good dinner while you’re at it. Even if we’re hiding in the bushes like bandits, there’s no reason we should eat like them—living off stale rice and ideology.”
“Thank you, brother,” stammered Ah Yee. No one had been allowed into any town or village since Sungai Tombak. “Can Ah Wing come with me to help carry?”
Fung Cheung waved his hand. “Whatever. Just make sure you get us chicken. I’m sick of eating musang.”
Tet Sang waited till the men had dispersed to their various tasks to say to Fung Cheung: “Was that a good idea?”
They’d stayed away from inhabited areas precisely to avoid the mata, and Kempas was the heart of the Protectorate’s domain in the Southern Seas, the centre from which they administered the affairs of the peninsula and its neighbouring islands.
“Ah Yee is getting jumpy. Better to give him face than have a problem,” said Fung Cheung. “Kempas is the lastplace the Protectorate will be hunting for bandits. You’ve seen the mata here. They all look like clerks.”
Tet Sang gave him a doubtful look, but Fung Cheung sighed.
“Don’t nag me, Ah Sang,” he said. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“What happens when all the men want money and a trip to town?”
Fung Cheung raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “We’ll have to ask your deity then. Maybe Sister Guet Imm can intervene with the goddess on our behalf.”
Your deitywas a slip, a sign of Fung Cheung’s state of mind. He was the only one of the men who knew about Tet Sang’s past—the only one who had an idea of the circumstances in which Tet Sang had left his tokong—and he would not usually have been so tactless.
Tet Sang suppressed his wince. It might have been Fung Cheung who had decided to let Guet Imm come with them, but it was Tet Sang who had said she should stay—he who had endorsed her plan to approach Yeoh Thean Tee directly. He felt responsible for their position.
Guet Imm was conscious that she was under a cloud. She made herself scarce for most of the day, reappearing only in the evening with a basket of herbs and vegetables. When Ah Yee was predictably late returning to camp, she insisted on cooking dinner as a peace offering.
The men had not lost all their affection for her. It wastestament to their good nature that they allowed this, and ate the results with minimal apparent disgust.
They were partway through dinner when Ah Yee and Ah Wing reappeared. Tet Sang glanced at them and put down his bowl.
Fung Cheung only took notice of others’ moods when it suited him. He raised his eyebrows. “No chicken, Ah Yee?”
Ah Yee’s expression was thunderous. Ah Wing said, glancing nervously at him, “We had to give it to the mata.”
“Ah,” said Fung Cheung gently. He had already been regretting the indulgence he had shown Ah Yee. Tet Sang could tell that this new turn aggravated him. He would shortly grow scathing.
“What happened?” said Tet Sang.
