Free The Eleventh Tiger by David A McIntee Page A

further embarrassment, relieve him of those unnecessary and unreasonable things.’
    Zhao nodded curtly and drew his dagger. Cheng studiously looked out of the window, visibly trying not to be sick, while Jiang watched, his mouth open, as Zhao plucked out Lei-Fang’s left eye with the tip of the blade.
    The abbot cut into the side of the deer with his knife, parting the ribs with a cracking and scraping that was music to his ears. He also enjoyed the screams that came from Lei-Fang when the pain woke him.
    By the time Zhao had dealt with the right eye and the nose, the abbot had reached his prize. He pushed his hand into the tight chest of the animal and pulled its heart free. As Zhao sliced through Lei-Fang’s tongue and tossed it aside the abbot bit into the heart, savouring the gelid, dead blood that was trapped within, and the life and strength it carried with it.
     
    He swallowed, and held the heart out towards Cheng and Jiang. ‘Pork?’
    Cheng found his voice first, though it seemed to be swim-ming up through vomit that desperately needed to be freed.
    ‘Thank you, my Lord, no. Your chef has done too fine a job for it to be wasted on a humble innkeeper like myself.’
    Jiang smiled weakly. ‘I already had yum cha before boarding. But it is a roast worthy of an emperor, my Lord.’
    The abbot relaxed, taking another bite of the heart. The pair had learnt their lesson, and were clearly worthy of the love he had for them and the people. ‘Good. Cheng, your supply of ammunition must continue.’
    ‘It will, my Lord,’ Cheng squeaked.
    ‘Oh, I know it will.’ The abbot relaxed, putting Lei-Fang’s mewling out of his mind and enjoying the respect that radiated towards him from Cheng and Jiang. ‘I know.’
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER TWO
The Dead and the Deadly
     
     
    l
    There was a small shrine at the back of the main hall at Po Chi Lam, and there Fei-Hung was burning what looked to Barbara like bank notes. Offerings of food were laid out as well, but these only reminded her of the table at which Ian had been attacked. The Doctor and Kei-Ying were waiting for her in the hall with Vicki, looks of concern on their faces.
    ‘What is it?’ she asked.
    Did they know something she didn’t? She wasn’t a medical person, and knew she wouldn’t be able to recognise a skull fracture, or any number of other potentially fatal results of a beating.
    ‘Chesterton is very sick,’ Kei-Ying told her. ‘Internal bleeding, and perhaps infection of the blood.’
    Barbara couldn’t believe her ears. She refused to believe it.
    ‘I am treating him as best I can,’ Kei-Ying said, ‘but the broken bones will not heal quickly.’
    ‘No,’ the Doctor murmured, ‘I don’t suppose they will without rather more advanced medical techniques than you have here. Oh, I don’t mean to belittle your talent, Master Wong, but the techniques I’m thinking of are far in advance of either yours, or western medicine in this century.’
    ‘This century?’ Kei-Ying looked as if he wanted to back away, and Barbara couldn’t help but sympathise.
    ‘Barbara,’ the Doctor said, ‘do you think you could find your way back to the Ship?’
    ‘I think so... why?’ A thought occurred to her and made her bristle. ‘If you think you can get me out of the way while Ian-’
    ‘There are no antibiotic drugs in this century,’ the Doctor reminded her pointedly, ‘but there are some medicines in the TARDIS, of both your century and beyond.’ His voice softened. ‘With them, I am sure that Chesterton will recover fully, I promise you.’
    ‘I see.’ Could it be true? It was a silly question - she knew for a fact that the TARDIS was filled to the gunwales with all manner of modern and futuristic gubbins - but fear about Ian’s condition bred doubts in even her most solid bastions of certainty.
    ‘TARDIS?’ Kei-Ying echoed.
    ‘Our... conveyance,’ the Doctor said. ‘It would appear as a large, blue wooden box with a lamp on top of