Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack and Sao Feng.
A/N: The name Shui is pronounced as sh-wey.
Rating: T


The Deer (1): The Patterned House

From my travels, oh King, I have also learnt the importance of self-control. A wise man should treat his self-control like his true best friend, knowing it will never betray him even during the most tempting moments. He who is attracted too easily by passion and sensual desires more than usually summons betrayal and loses all that he has gained in life; like the deer who was allured by the sweet music of a hunter's horn, leading to his capture and death.

The Old Temple was forbidden to those who knew its location. Most didn't know. Some say the holy spirits of our great ancestors lived on in the temple, looking over their descendents, at peace. They say because of the magical powers bestowed by the heavens, the doors remained locked and secured, no matter what key, weapon or magic was used. I say otherwise.

An innocent boy of ten, I was compelled to work as a sweeper in Mistress Shui's brothel in order to gain myself a roof over my head and food to perish my hunger. I have no complaint. Life in Singapore is harsh. Mistress Shui had done me a great favour, keeping me off the streets where people were dying of disease or being murdered. She was a mysterious lady; her moods were ever-changing; sometimes she would nourish me like a mother, and other times, she would threaten to throw me out if I failed to complete all the set tasks. I grew up surrounded by whores, pirates and members of the lowest cast. I learnt the bitter realities of life sooner than many of the richer children in Singapore.

I was a quiet child. I took life as it came, worrying only about the present, leaving tomorrow for the Gods to decide. I think that's why Mistress Shui chose me for the job. When she was in a sympathetic mood, she would assign a job to me for which I would receive a bonus reward, such as a day working in the opium den. Working in the opium house was a treat. It meant you could loiter without much worry; all the customers were hazy and lost in their intoxication, and if you were really lucky, you could steal a puff or two from a disorientated customer when Ming Tao, Mistress Shui's burly employee, walked into the backroom.

But such treats arrived only once a fortnight. Once every fortnight, I was sent to keep the garden of an old house in the woods near the Johor Straits. It wasn't large but it was very beautiful, especially when it rained because then, the trees emanated striking shades of green and brown, and the smell of the wet soil was like the sensation of fresh air rushing into breathless lungs.

No one seemed to live in the house- I shaped the trees and bushes, watered the plants during an unusual stretch of rainless days, swept away the dry leaves and flowers for almost a whole year, but never once did I see anyone entering, leaving or even lingering around the house. I enjoyed the peace and stillness in the area and developed a strange affinity to the place. The silence struck me as a friend with whom I could ponder over matters in my ten-year-old mind that a normal ten-year-old would render uninteresting. I would question the reasons for the changing wind, the reasons for the changing tide, the reasons for changing moon. The silence taught me to listen rather than hear. Initially, I could hear the birds chirping in their high-up nests, but as time passed, I could hear the beating of their wings as they landed apparently noiselessly on the roof of the house, and listen to them replying to the calls of other birds in the woodlands.

Often while managing the low-lying shrubs surrounding the house, I would briefly run my fingers over the engraved patterns and sculptured statues outside the house. I would trace the strange characters on the walls and pillars, subconsciously memorising them. Sometimes, if I finished the tasks early, I sat on the rock in the corner and tried to create stories of my own using the pictures on the bricks. And with these thoughts, I would go back home, to Mistress Shui's brothel, never to speak of any of the pictures or statues to anyone in the house.

Then one evening, while I was helping at the opium den, Mistress Shui had a very strange customer. I was lazing on one of the large comfortable cushions, when the Mistress walked in through the beaded curtains escorting a very strange-looking man. He was young. His skin was brown, more sun-kissed than the usual Malayan sailors. But it wasn't the brown skin or the handsome kohl-lined eyes that struck me; it was the drunken swagger and the dreadlocks falling to his shoulders. Mistress Shui was very particular about banning drunken fools entering the den. She said she couldn't risk the Emperor's men decreasing or ceasing trade due to the increasing number of deaths of idiots imprudent enough to mix two intoxicating substances. Together, opium and alcohol were vicious enough to kill instantly. It's easier if they died outside her establishment, she would say.

The man, as you will know, was Captain Jack Sparrow.

Mistress Shui was speaking in a different language. Now I know it was English. The only words Jack knew in our language were opium, women and sex. He pronounced them with surprising accuracy. All this while, he was engrossed in what sounded like a longwinded conversation with the Mistress. The Mistress nodded serenely then walked towards me.

"Where is Ming Tao?" she asked in Mandarin.

Sluggishly, I pointed behind me at the backroom just as Ming walked out. He gave Mistress a small bow and exchanged words of respect. She shot me a knowing, reprimanding look: she knew I had smoked. I smiled lazily back at her, then closed my eyes.

She probably thought I'd fallen asleep because she decided to carry out her discussion with Ming where they stood, rather than in the backroom.

"Mistress, it is unwise to allow anyone who has consumed that much alcohol to smoke."

"Yes, but you see, there is a slight complication." There was a pause and shuffling of feet. "He is here to discuss 'issues', as he calls them, with Lord Jiao, and I've been told to pay him special attention. They don't trust him. The Lord is sending Sao Feng here shortly."

"But still, Mistress, he looks like he's under enough intoxication."

"Yes, I thought so too, but I cannot let him leave my sight, or at least my establishments. The problem is, he's on the verge of doing just that. He walked into the brothel half an hour ago led by one of the Lord's men. Asked for the best available woman; paid for her, too, then came back grumbling quarter of an hour later saying something about the girl's attire."

"He argued about Ky Ling's clothes?" laughed Ming, silently.

"He was asking for another woman, but I told him every whore in Singapore will wear similar garments. Wasn't very happy so I told him he could have a night in the opium den instead, and that I would inform Sao Feng to meet him there as soon as possible. So really, we have no choice but to let him smoke."

Ming snorted in approval.

Moments later came the rustling of the beaded curtains, followed by the voice of Sao Feng shouting greetings to Ming and the Mistress in our language. After a pause, he adopted a different tongue and was engrossed in a conversation with the stranger. They were sitting at the far side of the room, but I could still distinguish their words; my hearing skills had improved significantly, and the peaceful hours spent at the old house deserved the full credit.

I heard, but I didn't understand. They didn't speak in Mandarin. I kept still throughout the conversation, feigning sleep, but my curious mind was wide awake, racing, wanting to decode their language. After an hour or so, the foreigner left. Almost immediately, Mistress Shui was next to Sao Feng, hissing almost inaudible whispers rapidly. I had to slow my breathing to hear their voices more carefully.

"... wishes us to cooperate and collaborate with him. He needs the charts – yes, he actually thinks the directions are on paper – and Lord Jiao needs a man who knows the Caribbean waters like the back of his hand. We cannot afford a run-in with the Company," Sao Feng was saying. I opened my eyes by a fraction of an inch.

"Yes, but that means we are exposing Lord Jiao's most concealed secret. We cannot tell Jack Sparrow of the Old Temple! Hardly anyone in Singapore knows of its secret, or even its presence!"

"The Lord is intent on obtaining the treasures of the West, or Isla de Muerta as Sparrow calls it. Once he reaches the Caribbean waters, we can dispatch the man if he proves to be dishonest. It's only too easy."

"So what's been agreed?"

There was a pause. Sao Feng looked over his shoulder at the dazed customers. His eyes swept over me but considered me asleep. Then leaning forward, he carried on whispering, "We take Sparrow through the passage to the Old Temple on the upcoming full moon night –since the maps are not readable on any other night – translate the directions and set sail before dawn."

"The Lord will accompany?"

"Yes."

"And what of the boy?"

"What boy?" Mistress Shui nodded once, unmistakeably in my direction. Sao Feng cast me an indifferent look.

"He's the only one other than you, me, Jiao, and his two trusted men who knows of the Temple."

I tried to identify a place in Singapore which only I knew of. It didn't take long to pinpoint the exact location.

"He has been going there for a year. He's too young to understand the place as anything more than a house. Good boy, he is. Never questions or discusses anything with anyone, other than myself and some of the brothel girls. Takes life as it comes."

She beamed in my direction for a brief second and Sao Feng followed her gaze.

"You know he will have to go when he comes to the knowing age, Mistress Shui. Best not to get too attached to him. Sometimes, I really do disagree with Lord Jiao's methods. There is no reason to kill an innocent soul. One ought to practice fair-play once in a while."

"Don't talk about your uncle like that. He has led a longer life than you and so has seen the harsh realities of life. The world's a tapestry of lies and betrayal." She looked at him intently. "Life isn't fair."

"Says the woman who is the mistress of the Pirate Lord of the South China Sea," scoffed Sao Feng.

She smiled at him and turned back to face me.

"Maybe if the boy never speaks, the Lord will spare him."

"You said that about the last one too, Mistress." A sorrowful shadow passed over her face at his words, but it was gone immediately.

"So I did."

There was finality in her tone which he acknowledged. He bowed and walked out of the opium house.

I may have been ten years old, but I had heard enough.