His first act had been to send for three doctors. And they had lived on his bounty ever since. When they were not eating they put on elaborate robes of office.
Dr. Zia consulted the stars. He did not bother to examine the eyes of An Lu-shan.
"The fault is in your stars," he said, and returned to the contemplation of the heavens.
Dr. Kee Foo declared, after studying a medical scroll, that An Lu-shan's loss of sight was due entirely to the skin disease from which he suffered.
"I shall prepare a concoction for you," he said, "a concoction predominated by the pulverized brain of an infant. It is an old Tibetan remedy. I have studied far and wide that my practice may be worthy of an Emperor's grace."
Dr. Chau maintained that the Yang and the Yin principles within the body of the mighty leader were disrupted because there had been too much war in China.
"What is lacking is tranquillity," he said bluntly. "A great nation should be governed as one would cook a small fish."
An Lu-shan leaped from his couch.
"Traitor!" he cried, his arms flaying the air, his fingers clutching for the scrawny neck of the Doctor.
But Dr. Chau stepped nimbly aside, he had no desire to be destroyed, and An Lu-shan crashed against a table upon which rested an orange lantern in a bronze stand. Table, lantern and An Lu-shan fell heavily to the floor.
