Sherlock Hong: The Peranakan Princess Read online

  THE

  PERANAKAN

  PRINCESS

  © 2016 Don Bosco (Super Cool Books) and Marshall Cavendish International (Asia) Pte Ltd

  This book is published by Marshall Cavendish Children in association with Super Cool Books. Marshall Cavendish Children is an imprint of Marshall Cavendish International

  First published 2012 by Super Cool Books

  All rights reserved

  Cover Illustration by Ann Gee

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Request for permission should be addressed to the Publisher, Marshall Cavendish International (Asia) Private Limited, 1 New Industrial Road, Singapore 536196. Tel: (65) 6213 9300

  Email: [email protected] Website: www.marshallcavendish.com/genref

  The publisher makes no representation or warranties with respect to the contents of this book, and specifically disclaims any implied warranties or merchantability or fitness for any particular purpose, and shall in no event be liable for any loss or profit or any other commercial damage, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damage

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  National Library Board, Singapore Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Bosco, Don, 1971- author.

  The Peranakan princess / Don Bosco. – Singapore : Marshall Cavendish Children, 2015.

  pages cm. – (Sherlock Hong adventures)

  eISBN : 978 981 4721 62 2

  1. Magic – Fiction. 2. Princesses – Fiction. 3. Investigation – Fiction. 4. Teenagers – Fiction. 5. Malacca (Malacca, Malaysia) – History – 19th century – Fiction. 6. Singapore – History – 1867-1942 – Fiction. I. Title. II. Series: Sherlock Hong adventures.

  PR9570.S53

  S823 -- dc23 OCN920497000

  Printed in Singapore by Fabulous Printers Pte Ltd

  CHAPTER 1

  The year is 1891.

  I have something great to share with you.

  My name is Sherlock Hong, fifteen years old, proud member of a society that we call The International Order of Young Seekers.

  I live in Singapore, a city that hides many ancient secrets. Its legends are strange, its mysteries keep me awake every night thinking about them.

  You might remember my last report. Not long ago, in my own neighbourhood, a man named William Fong appeared. He pretended to be a necromancer and received a big sum of money to bring a dead nightingale back to life.

  But he had no such ability. It was a scheme that he came up with to cheat a rich old man.

  I exposed his true intention and helped to get him arrested. Still, the matter was not fully resolved.

  I’ll never forget William Fong’s last words to me. He talked about dark forces coming to our colony. He also mentioned that a Grandmaster would punish me.

  What did he mean? Was he delirious? Or was he threatening me?

  Time will tell.

  For now, there is another more urgent matter. I was recently involved in a dangerous adventure. And it made me aware of the higher arts that exist in our world.

  I will tell you everything in the pages that follow.

  There were many moments of fear and doubt along the way. But I always stayed true to the oath we took when we joined the Order: “The future belongs to the young and brave!”

  The knowledge in this book must be used wisely, so that we may rise up the ranks of our great Order, to earn for ourselves the respect of our fellow members and the privileges that have been promised to us.

  I humbly dedicate this work to all of you, my dear friends.

  The time has come to talk of magical things.

  CHAPTER 2

  The early morning sun made me hot and sweaty. My feet hurt but still I dragged myself along the path that led up Mount Faber.

  It was the second Tuesday in March, the day I woke up early and went with Miss Priya on a field trip to visit the tomb of a legendary princess named Radin Mas Ayu.

  Miss Priya is the highly intelligent daughter of a school principal in India. My father hired her to be my tutor at home.

  She knows a lot about everything, whether it’s Confucius or calculus or coconut jokes. But that morning, she didn’t even notice that I struggled to keep up with her.

  She just skipped ahead, happily singing a Malay lullaby.

  When we got close to the tomb, I was surprised to see four Chinese women coming down. They were dressed in blue and they smiled at us.

  “Many people believe that Princess Radin Mas Ayu has the ability to grant wishes,” Miss Priya explained. “So they come here with their requests.”

  The tomb looked normal. It was made of stone. But there was an aura of peace all around it. The trees in the area seemed to bow towards that direction, as if paying their respects.

  I turned to Miss Priya. “Who was Princess Radin Mas Ayu? And what happened to her?”

  Miss Priya cleared her throat. She loved to tell stories.

  “A long time ago,” she said, “perhaps three hundred years back, Radin Mas Ayu lived here with her father. He was popular with the people, and this made the Sultan jealous of him. One day, a palace guard warned Radin Mas Ayu that the Sultan wanted to kill her father. She rushed to protect her father. She fought with the Sultan so that her father could escape. But she was stabbed and died! They buried her here.”

  I must admit, the story moved me deeply. I was inspired by her courage.

  But where were the other young and brave heroes? Why didn’t they protect her?

  I vowed, silently, that if a princess was ever in trouble, I would show courage and do my best to protect her.

  Miss Priya had given me an assignment in the morning to make sketches of the flowers and leaves in the area. When we were done, we walked home quickly so that I would not be late for lunch.

  Soon, we reached River Valley Road, where I lived. Miss Priya left me at my front gate.

  “Show your parents what you’ve done,” Miss Priya suggested. “I’ll see you on Friday. We’ll read a passage from the Indian book, Ramayana.”

  I entered the house and looked for my father. I was eager to show him my drawings, to reassure him that I was serious about my studies.

  My father, you might recall, is Master Hong, the much respected physician.

  As I passed the front hall, I heard his voice. He sounded annoyed.

  “Go ask one of the clan leaders in Chinatown,” Father said. “Or seek the Governor’s advice. I refuse to get involved.”

  I looked inside. We had a visitor, a man wearing a long shirt and a plain white cap that covered his forehead.

  He looked most unusual. He had thick, dark eyebrows and was so thin that his cheekbones stuck out in an odd and almost frightening way.

  I also noticed that he kept his fingernails very long.

  “Master Hong, I’m not asking for much,” he told my father. “I just want a short letter from you. It won’t cost you anything. And no one will be inconvenienced. I’m in a hurry. Surely you’ll help me?”

  Father must have sensed my presence. He turned around abruptly and stared at me.

  “Go to your room,” he snapped.

  I was surprised. My father usually speaks in a calm and patient manner.

  Something was very wrong.

  The man laughed. He took off his white cap. “Is this your son? A handsome young man indeed!”

  He spoke in a soft voice, almost purring like a cat, as he walked towards me.

  “What’s your name, boy?” he said. “Would you like to show us what you have in your hands?”

  When he came closer, I noticed some strange marks on his forehead.

  It was a tattoo of a goldfish!

  I didn’t know why, but I suddenly felt an unpleasant sensation run down my back.

  My father rushed over. He grabbed my chin and turned my head away.

  “Enough of your nonsense,” Father said to the man. “I have to pack for a trip. I must ask you to go now.”

  The man put his cap back on again. He shook his head in disappointment. “You leave me no choice, Master Hong.”

  He didn’t explain what he meant by that statement.

  He just cracked his knuckles and left.

  CHAPTER 3

  I was tired from the field trip to Mount Faber. I went to bed earlier that evening and had a silly dream. I was a goldfish trying to save a princess from a wicked king with long fingernails!

  But late at night, something woke me up. At first I wasn’t sure what it was. I sat in the dark for a while and I was ready to go back to sleep when I heard footsteps going across the creaky floorboards outside my room.

  There was a lamp next to my bed, but I didn’t think of lighting it. I went quietly to the doorway and stared out into the dark passage.

  There was only a faint sliver of moonlight that came in through the venti
lation holes above the windows.

  Still, that was enough for me to make out a shadowy figure at the far end of the passage.

  “Pa?” I said softly. “Is that you? Are you going somewhere?”

  I was shocked to hear an unfamiliar voice. “Go back to bed,” it growled. “Don’t interfere.”

  I gasped. It wasn’t my father. There was a stranger in the house!

  “Who’s there?” I said, this time much louder. I felt my mouth go dry. “Pa! Ma! Wake up!”

  Almost immediately, Mother came out of her room. “Sherlock?” she said. “What’s the matter?”

  As she spoke, I could hear the person scrambling away.

  “Someone broke into our home,” I told her. “I saw a man standing right there. But he ran away!”

  Pa joined us. He was wearing a cotton robe and pulled it tightly around him before tying the belt.

  “Sherlock, go get Ah Mah and Yat Seng,” he instructed. “Tell them what you saw. We’ll search the house and find the intruder.”

  Ah Mah was our house maid. Yat Seng looked after our garden and did all sorts of repair work for us. They slept in their own rooms at the back of our house. They were like family to us.

  Mother quickly prepared some lamps. We went around carefully, room to room, and checked every door, every window, every corner.

  It took us an hour. But there was no sign of the man.

  Yat Seng was furious. His hands shook as he spoke. “If I ever catch that rat, I’ll make sure justice is served!” Mother shook her head. “Strange,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like anything is missing.”

  Father remained deep in thought for a while. “You’re sure?” he said to Mother. “Did you check our medical supplies?”

  Father kept boxes of herbs, ginseng roots, mountain berries, medicated oils and dried gecko strips at home, which he used to treat all kinds of illnesses, diseases and disorders. His medical supplies are worth a lot of money.

  Mother nodded. “It’s all there. And I looked in your study too. He didn’t touch your paintings or your vases.”

  Ah Mah looked troubled. “Master Hong, who was the man who visited you yesterday? He spoke to me before you came in. He said he could read my palm and tell my future. But I didn’t trust him. His words were pleasant but his eyes were so sinister!”

  We all turned to look at Father. I was curious and wanted to know too.

  “His name is Tan Yah Yah,” Father said. “He wanted me to write a letter asking the community leaders in Johor to help him find a long lost family member. But I sensed that he was not being entirely honest with me. When Sherlock came home, he tried to show Sherlock his hypnotic tattoo.”

  Hypnotic tattoo? Then I realised Father was referring to the goldfish on Tan Yah Yah’s forehead!

  “Pa, what’s a hypnotic tattoo?” I asked.

  Father looked uncomfortable. “They were invented by the court magicians in China around a thousand years ago,” he said, “during the Song dynasty. They are used by bad men to deceive the innocent.”

  I remembered my father’s discomfort and unusually impatient tone when Tan Yah Yah was in our house. “Is that why you interrupted him and asked him to leave when he started talking to me?” I asked. “How does a hypnotic tattoo work?”

  Father just shook his head. He refused to say more.

  “I need to get ready,” he said. “I’ll be off to Bandung in a few hours.”

  Father left the kitchen to pack for his trip but he came back a moment later and took me aside.

  “Sherlock,” he said solemnly, “promise me that you’ll take care of things when I’m not around.”

  “Yes, Pa,” I said. “I’ll help Ma in every way I can!”

  I was surprised. But also happy that he trusted me with this responsibility.

  CHAPTER 4

  In the morning, Pa left without having his breakfast. The rest of us sat around and ate in silence. Later, Ma said, “Sherlock, you must warn our neighbours. Tell them to keep their doors locked and their windows shut at night.”

  It took me almost two hours, going up and down the street from house to house to tell everyone what happened.

  My last stop was a green mansion at the end of the next road. I walked around to the side gate and whistled three times. This was the signal for my friend Aisha to let me in.

  I introduced her in my last case file. Aisha and I grew up together. But then I went away to London for a while and joined the International Order of Young Seekers.

  When I got back, she sensed that I was keeping a secret from her. And she did not like it. Aisha looked worried when she came to the gate. She unlatched it and let me in.

  “We heard what happened,” Aisha said. “My aunt met Ah Mah at the market this morning. She said Ah Mah told the story many times. How your father surprised the intruder and fought with him. But the intruder pulled out a samurai sword and threatened to hurt all of you!”

  I laughed. Everyone knows that Ah Mah loves to exaggerate. The more attention she received, the wilder her stories would get.

  I noticed that Aisha was wearing a new necklace. I wanted to ask about the strange symbols engraved on it, but I heard a voice behind me. It sounded bossy and impatient.

  “Who’s that, Aisha? Tell him to go away. Girl, we must finish our game of snakes and ladders!”

  “Jayathri’s here too,” Aisha said. “She’s been visiting us a lot lately.”

  Jayathri was one of our neighbours. She was big and tall for her age and she had thick curly hair.

  Her father held an important job at the Singapore Prison. He designed building projects for the inmates to work on. It was a good thing he had a loud voice because he spent the whole day shouting orders. And that doesn’t sound fun at all.

  Let’s just say that Jayathri has a loud voice too and like her father, she’s good at telling people what to do.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Jayathri said when she saw me. She crossed her arms and pouted. “Aisha’s busy today. You shouldn’t just drop by and disturb her like this, you know? Isn’t that right, Aisha?”

  Aisha ignored the comment. “Jayathri mentioned something interesting just now,” she said. She turned to Jayathri. “Why don’t you tell Sherlock too?”

  “Hmmph!” Jayathri grunted and crossed her arms. She was unwilling to tell me anything.

  She sulked for a while but finally she gave in and began sharing.

  “My mother saw someone suspicious outside your house yesterday evening,” Jayathri said. “She thought he would go in. But he just looked around and left.”

  I felt my heart beat faster. Was this the person who broke into our home? Was he spying on us and making plans?

  “Did your mother get a good look at him?” I asked Jayathri. “If she did, we can tell the police!”

  Jayathri scratched her head. “Mother said he wore a baggy shirt and big boots. And he was whistling a tune. There was something strange about him. He didn’t look like he was from around here. But that’s all she remembered.”

  Baggy shirt? Big boots? Whistling? That description did not sound like Tan Yah Yah.

  Jayathri made an impatient noise to let me know that she wanted to continue with her game of snakes and ladders and that I was intruding on Aisha and her.

  I said goodbye and walked to the gate on my own. I could hear Jayathri complaining to Aisha, telling her that I was a bad person because I got kicked out of a school in England for dabbling in alchemy. She warned Aisha to stay away from me.

  My heart sank. Was this why Aisha had been acting more and more distant lately?

  All the way home, I felt glum.

  If only Aisha would ask me about it. Then I could tell her the truth. That I was actually helping some of the older kids with an experiment.

  They found a few pages from a book that belonged to a legendary English alchemist named John Dee. The pages explained how to trap the light from a candle in a prism and use this to reveal images from the other side of the world.

  In our excitement, someone knocked the candle over and our books caught fire. When the headmaster found out, he was angry and expelled us.

  I wasn’t a troublemaker! It was an accident and it could have happened to anyone.

  Also, I wanted to show Aisha the sketches I did on Mount Faber. I had them in my pocket.