The Dungeon

So he sat near them in the evenings and tried to teach the foreigner more words so they could talk. He even taught him some writing. Bruce McLennan found this interesting because he liked to draw, and Mi-Ki writing was like drawing pictures. He thought the characters were intriguing, but faintly absurd – why so many? Why did each ‘picture’ stand for an object or concept? Though scarcely literate in his own language, he knew his alphabet and that seemed to him a better system. But he learned, in order to save himself from idleness and boredom.

Peony watched this from her place at her master’s side. Sometimes she would copy the characters, drawing them with a pointed stick in the hard earth. When McLennan saw her doing this, he thought, ‘She’s not stupid,’ and felt better about his bargain. At times, when Li-wu praised her gently, he felt a sort of satisfaction. ‘I own her,’ he thought, ‘so I take some pride in her. That’s all.’ That made him feel at ease. It wasn’t as if he took any serious interest in her. But it disturbed him when he saw that Li-wu and the child had something like a friendship. He disliked it when she would smile up at the Chi-na man, and he would talk to her seriously in their own language and pat her shoulder.