by Resa Nelson
“Idiot!” the merchant screamed. He gripped the cane with both hands and beat the boy with it.
The boy screamed in fear and pain.
The potential buyers shrieked and scurried away.
In that moment, everything that Pingzi Po had ever learned by watching Benzel of the Wolf teach his dragonslayer students came rushing back. Although she had never wielded a sword, Pingzi had absorbed all the knowledge Benzel dispensed about grips and stances and delivering blows. Although most of his teachings focused on how to kill dragons, Benzel also had included instructions for fighting men, such as brigands one might encounter on the road.
She had paid especially close attention to the technique Benzel taught about moving in close to one’s opponent in order to disarm him.
Pingzi yelled her favorite expression of frustration. “Aiy yah!”
The merchant looked up at her.
“Leave him alone!” Pingzi shouted.
The boy cowered and wrapped his arms over his head.
The merchant scowled and turned back to the boy. He raised the cane above his head, ready to strike another blow.
Pingzi rushed at the merchant as if running into his arms.
Surprised, the merchant hesitated, and the cane’s downward momentum slowed.
Pingzi spun her body into the descending cane so that she matched its direction and speed. She wrapped both hands around it and continued spinning until it felt as if she’d become one with the cane. Pingzi twisted the cane out of the merchant’s hands. Still remembering what she’d seen Benzel teach for years, Pingzi took a few retreating steps away from the merchant and then pointed the cane at him as if it were a sword.
Dumbfounded, the merchant stared at his empty hands as if the cane had dissipated into the air by some foul type of magic. He looked even more surprised when he looked up to see his cane in Pingzi’s hands. The merchant rolled his eyes in exasperation. He stepped toward her with an extended hand. “Give that back to me.”
The excitement of starting an unanticipated fight rushed through Pingzi’s body. Her skin buzzed with the feeling of power. “Aiy yah!” she shouted again.
The merchant paused in surprise and then laughed at her.
Pingzi used the cane like a sword and smacked the merchant in the side of the head.
He cried out in pain and dropped to one knee.
Growing more excited by the moment, Pingzi said, “Be grateful I don’t have a sharp sword in my hands. Otherwise, you’d be decapitated!”
She remembered all the mistakes she’d seen Benzel’s dragonslayer students make, determined not to be like them.
I must circle him. I must watch to see if he tries to make any sudden moves. I must stay in motion to make it difficult for him to harm me.
Pingzi became acutely aware of her feet and the way the ground felt beneath them. Feeling every toe and bone and muscle, she moved around the fallen merchant as if she were doing the slow dance of the daily exercises she performed with hundreds of other people in the parks of Zangcheen every morning.
Clutching his head, the merchant lunged at her.
For a moment, fear gripped Pingzi and froze her in place.
Stay in motion!
Sheer determination moved Pingzi’s feet to the side, away from the merchant’s reach.
Turning to face his sprawled, belly-down figure squarely, she raised the cane above her head and delivered an overhead blow across the back of his shoulders.
The merchant cried out again and then shouted a string of profanities suggesting that Pingzi made her living in a most inappropriate way.
Infuriated, she struck him again in the ankles and then the knees.
The merchant screamed.
The sharp sound of cracking bones startled Pingzi but didn’t stop her. Although her palms stung, she kept a tight grip on the cane and struck the merchant in the head again.
“Mercy!” the merchant shrieked.
Pingzi held still. “Promise you will never harm this boy again.”
“I promise!”
Panting from exertion, Pingzi noticed a crowd had gathered around them.
One of the men in the crowd raised his arm and shouted, “Over here!”
Two uniformed men pushed their way through the crowd. They stopped long enough to stare at Pingzi but then rushed to the aid of the merchant. He cried out in pain when they lifted the merchant to his feet. He wobbled and sank back down to the ground.
“She’s gone mad!” the merchant told them. He repeated his string of profanities.
Although her heart beat wildly, Pingzi rested one end of the cane on the ground between her feet. She stood as if at attention. She refrained from smiling, because she knew what would happen next.
“She attacked me!” the merchant continued. “I have permission to be here in Zangcheen and sell my wares. I’m welcome at the royal palace.” He jabbed a shaking finger at Pingzi. “She should be punished for trying to kill me.”
One uniformed man took a step toward Pingzi.
Offering a sweet smile, she said, “My royal guard. The House of Po has great appreciation for all you do.”
The uniformed man approaching her hesitated. “You do not dress like a member of the House of Po.”
Pingzi sized him up. The man’s hair had gone half grey. Most of the emperor’s guards spent their entire lives working for the palace. Being a guard for the House of Po carried great prestige and honor. “Surely you remember the demon queller.”
Her words startled him. The guard leaned forward slightly with an intense gaze. “I was a guard of the gate when the young Pingzi Po revealed herself as the demon queller. That was 30 years ago.” He stared into her eyes, something no guard would do if he knew he addressed royalty. “But Mistress Po hasn’t been seen since then.”
“I rarely need to go to the palace,” Pingzi said. “My work as a demon queller hasn’t ended. It’s work that can only be done outside the palace.”
The other guard offered his opinion to his colleague. “She bears a resemblance to the emperor.” His supportive grip on the merchant eased. “She sounds like Po, too.”
Pingzi’s tone became dry. “That’s because I am a Po.” She leaned the top end of the cane toward the merchant. “And I do believe you heard the accusations aimed at me from that man’s mouth when you first arrived.”
The guard standing near the merchant eased away from him. “I heard what he called you.”
“I believe you know the laws as well as I do,” Pingzi said. “This man has committed the act of Speaking Ill Against a Member of the House of Po. He should be taken to court at once and tried.”
“What?” the merchant said. He looked back and forth at the guards. “You believe her?”
“As you should know,” Pingzi said to the guards, “I’ve spent years abroad.” She pointed a sharp finger at the merchant. “Men like this often think we look alike and can’t tell the difference between us. While you have the experience to recognize a member of the House of Po, this man does not.”
The guards flanked the merchant. They reached down, took his arms in a firm grip, and hauled him back up on his uncertain feet.
Flustered, the merchant said, “What’s happening?”
One guard announced, “You have been charged with the crime of Speaking Ill Against a Member of the House of Po. You will appear in court before the emperor today.” The guard bowed toward Pingzi. “My sincere apologies for the time it took to recognize you, Mistress Po.”
Pingzi smiled. “I’ve grown up since any of the royal guards last saw me. I can’t hold that against you.”
Awash with relief, the guards dragged the protesting merchant toward the royal complex.
Still gripping the cane she’d taken from him, Pingzi looked for the boy and found him weeping with the soiled silk drawn around him like a shield. She knelt beside him. “Are you alright?”
Startled, he looked at her with fearful eyes.
Pingzi softened her vo
ice and tried again. “What’s your name?”
The boy looked confused and stayed silent.
What if he doesn’t speak Far Eastern?
Because Benzel was a Northlander, Pingzi had learned his language. When they lived in the Southlands, she’d learned a smattering of Southlander and Midlander. But once she returned to the Far East, Pingzi had let that knowledge slide. Now she regretted failing to practice her Northlander this morning with Benzel when she had the chance.
Pingzi did her best to recall the Northlander language, assuming a Midlander boy should speak it. “Your name?”
The boy brightened and spoke confident Northlander with a strong Midlander accent. “TeaTree! My name is TeaTree!” He winced and coddled the places where he’d been beaten by the merchant. “I don’t understand. What’s happened to my master?”
Pingzi struggled to explain in Northlander. “Bad man broke law. Must pay for crime.”
TeaTree gathered his wits and stood up, now covered in mud after having first slipped in it and then struck in it. He pointed at the man who had first called out to the guards. “Is he going to champion you?”
Pingzi turned around. The crowd that had surrounded them now dissipated with the exception of an attractive man. She switched to speaking Far Eastern. “Who are you? What do you want?”
He smiled and gave a respectful bow. “I am Hsu Mao, nu shi.”
Pingzi bristled at the term of veneration. “You eavesdropped. My conversation with the guards was private.”
Hsu Mao began to laugh but then covered it up with a cough. “I beg your pardon, Mistress Po, but your conversation was so loud that I found it impossible not to hear.”
“Practice closing your ears to conversations that don’t concern you!” Pingzi straightened her clothing, even though nothing needed straightening. “And don’t ‘nu shi’ me. Did it ever occur to you that my life outside the royal palace will become impossible if people recognize me?” She gave him a once-over. “We look to be the same age. No man ever addresses a woman of his age as ‘nu shi’ unless he’s addressing royalty or a very wise elder. Stop it at once.”
“I will,” Hsu Mao said. “But what should I call you?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “If I call you Mistress Po, it raises the same problem.”
“I see no reason for you to address me at all,” Pingzi said with a huff. She remembered the way the young dragonslayers used to twirl their swords in the air. She tried it with the cane but lost her grip on it. The cane clattered to the ground, and she picked it up as if nothing embarrassing had happened. “If you find it necessary to address me, I suppose you can call me Pingzi.”
TeaTree stepped up to the man and examined him as if he were a piece of meat. “He appears to be fit and strong. He should make a good champion for you.” The boy turned toward Pingzi with a shy smile. “It’s too bad we’re not in Daneland, because you’d fight my master yourself. I bet you’d win!”
Pingzi switched to speaking Northlander. “No fight in Far East.” She pointed toward the royal complex, where the merchant would be taken to the Hall of Justice. “Your master sees emperor. Emperor decides punishment.”
TeaTree’s face screwed up in puzzlement. “Emperor?”
There are no emperors in other countries. There’s no word for it in Northlander or any other language. How do I explain?
Pingzi made another attempt. “Emperor is leader of Far East.”
“The whole country?” TeaTree puzzled out this new information. “And he’s the one who decides how the law works instead of having people fight their own battles so the gods can show who’s right and who’s wrong?”
“Yes!” Pingzi said, delighted at the boy’s quick mind.
TeaTree looked in the direction of the royal complex. “Then what’s going to happen to my master? He promised he won’t hurt me again. We need to sell all this fabric. And then we need to find a place to eat supper and another place to bed down for the night.” TeaTree’s brow crinkled with worry. “My father used to be a merchant, but I can’t travel with him anymore. He’s sick and can’t take care of me. The master is the only one who takes care of me now.”
Hsu Mao piped up. “I doubt someone such as yourself has the time to help this boy. We both know he’s on his own now. If there’s a ship waiting for him at the border, I can escort him there.”
Pingzi knew better than to trust a handsome man. “While your offer is kind, I don’t know you and neither does this boy.”
“I can protect him,” Hsu Mao said.
“I’ve already protected him,” Pingzi said. “And you’re dismissed.” She waved one hand as if shooing him away.
His jaw sagged for a moment as if taken aback, but Hsu Mao quickly regained his composure. With a slight bow, he said, “As you wish, Mistress Pingzi.” He turned and walked away.
TeaTree watched Hsu Mao depart. “Are you sure you don’t want to fight against my master?”
“No one fight master.”
The color drained from TeaTree’s young face. “Then what’s going to happen to me? Will I have to see the emperor, too?”
“No,” Pingzi said. “You have ship?”
“Not really. My master booked us passage on a ship full of cattle.” TeaTree wrinkled his nose. “They stink.”
That means he has no ship waiting for him.
For a moment, Pingzi thought about Hsu Mao and wondered if he had room in his home for a Midlander boy. She also reminded herself that she knew nothing of the man or what might happen to TeaTree once she lost sight of him.
“You like dragonslayer?” Pingzi said.
Wonder filled TeaTree. “You know a dragonslayer?”
Pingzi nodded. “Benzel of the Wolf.”
TeaTree became so excited that he jumped up and down. “Everyone knows that story! Benzel of the Wolf! Berserkers destroyed his village, and he’s the only one who lived. Then he walked to the next village, but the berserkers had destroyed it, too. All he found was a little baby girl, and he took her with him to another village. He spent his whole life looking for those berserkers so he could kill them and protect the whole world from them!”
Pingzi always found it fascinating to hear strangers tell the story she knew so well. Every time she heard it, she learned exaggerations that had been added to it.
TeaTree became more excited by the moment. “Some people say he became a dragonslayer and went to the Southlands to train people how to kill dragons. But he disappeared and no one’s seen him since.” TeaTree lowered his voice. “They say he finally met a dragon who ate him in a single gulp.”
Pingzi couldn’t help but laugh. “No! Benzel of the Wolf—alive. You meet him.”
TeaTree trembled with joy. “Meet him? Me?”
“Live with him. With me.”
TeaTree frowned as if she’d asked him to solve a difficult problem. “Sorry?”
“You need home. We have home. Live with us.”
“But my master.” TeaTree’s voice trailed off into silence.
Pingzi shook her head. “Live no more.”
TeaTree stared at her for a long moment before speaking. “You’re saying the emperor will kill my master? That’s going to be his punishment for hitting me?” TeaTree’s eyes became fearful again. “Isn’t that a little harsh?”
Once again, Pingzi chided herself for having failed to keep up her knowledge of the Northlander language.
How do I tell him the merchant will die not because he whipped a boy but because he insulted royalty? How do I tell him that our laws are far stricter than any he’s ever known? And that the punishments are often cruel and unyielding?
Even if I can make TeaTree understand, why would he want to stay here in the Far East? No boy should be alone in a country he doesn’t understand, especially not this one. He could commit a crime without knowing it and end up being executed.
Pingzi changed the subject to avoid answering his question. “You have family in Midlands?”
TeaTree responded
in a matter-of-fact way, as if he answered the question so often that he thought nothing of it. “No. Mother died when I was born. Father taught me how to merchant and let me travel with him until he had a bad accident and got hurt. Too hurt to take care of me. I lived with aunts until my master agreed to take me as an apprentice.” TeaTree glanced back at the cart and the piles of fabric on it. “My master is demanding, but I like the fabrics.”
His longing glance at the fabric and the new lilt in his voice told Pingzi something new.
He’s a flowery boy. He likes the things that girls like.
All the things that girls like.
More than ever, she knew he needed protecting. Far Easterners had no patience for flowery boys.
But Pingzi also knew that anyone protected under the wing of royalty would be safe at all times. It meant she needed to keep the boy close while he grew up. Once TeaTree became a man, she would make it clear throughout the city of Zangcheen, the Wulong Province, and the entire Far East that he stood under her protection and that anyone who tried to harm him would be breaking the Law of Protection under the House of Po.
But for now, she needed to take the boy home where he’d be under the additional protection of Benzel.
Before Pingzi could say another word, the air around her began to shimmer.
A portent! Not now—I need to protect TeaTree!
Pale blue walls of sparkling light surrounded Pingzi like sheets of rain. The light cut her off from TeaTree and the city in which they stood.
When she tried to call out to TeaTree, a burst of wind stifled her voice.
Pingzi worried that TeaTree wouldn’t understand what was happening. He wouldn’t know the portent separated Pingzi from her body, which would collapse but stay behind in the mortal plane while the unexpected portent took her mind and essence elsewhere.
The pale blue walls swirled around Pingzi and closed in around her. They spun so fast they made her dizzy. She worked at keeping her balance when the swirling walls pressed against Pingzi and swept her up and away from the city of Zangcheen.
Pingzi felt as if she were tumbling head over heels—it felt like somersaulting down a hill. Finally, the swirling walls stopped her momentum and held her still. When the walls melted away, Pingzi found herself in a rocky landscape where steam and sprays of molten fire spewed from the ground. With a quick glance, she saw the rocky landscape formed a mountain on a small island. In the distance below, she saw a small village that appeared deserted.