Xuanzang took a step forward.
The muddy water rose over his shoes.
Morning light spilled through a gap in the clouds, falling over him and tinting his white monk's robes pale gold.
"The story the Bodhisattva just told left something out. Hariti went before the Buddha."
Xuanzang spoke, his voice measured and unhurried.
"Not to seek help."
He looked at Hariti Heaven.
The woman stood where she was, gazing transfixed at Red Boy in Princess Iron Fan's arms, utterly motionless.
"But to question and threaten him."
Xuanzang's voice was level.
"She searched like a madwoman possessed for seven days and seven nights, until an old man told her that her child had been taken to the Buddha's Vihara."
Xuanzang paused.
"Hariti rushed before the Buddha and demanded in a shriek, 'Where have you hidden my darling child? Tell me, or I'll devour everyone in this Vihara of yours, skin and bones!'"
"The Buddha pointed to the alms bowl before him."
"Hariti shuddered violently. She could indeed smell it-the scent she knew better than any other, the scent of her beloved child. It drifted in wisps from that plain alms bowl and into her nose."
"The scent was so strong it drove her mad. She reached out with her sharp claws, trying to snatch the bowl."
"The Buddha did not stop her. He simply handed her the bowl."
Xuanzang's voice softened.
"She opened the bowl."
"Inside was a child, his little face tilted up, smiling at her. It was her darling child, Pingala."
"Trembling all over, she cautiously reached out. Just as her fingertips were about to touch the child's cheek..."
Xuanzang paused for a moment.
"That figure shattered."
"It shattered into snow-white bones scattered across the ground."
"Then those bones turned into a bowl of rich broth, its meaty fragrance