by Resa Nelson
Frayka realized that although she wished for her great-grandmother to be more direct that GranGran’s new-found honesty made her uncomfortable.
TeaTree continued. “Madam says this not for her own pleasure or to give you discomfort. Her advice is both practical and necessary.”
“Necessary?” Frayka said, becoming more confused by the moment. “Necessary for what?”
TeaTree spoke without the need to consult GranGran first. “Madam knows why you have come to the Far East. She understands the task given to you by your Northlander god. She knows you must convince the Far Eastern gods to make amends. Her portents make it clear that your failure could lead to the deaths of all Northlanders living today.”
His words chilled Frayka. The All-Father, the god of all Northlander gods, had given Frayka this task and told her if she refused, the cost would be her life. Frayka accepted the task because she wanted to live.
“The All-Father said I will die if I fail,” Frayka said. “I didn’t know he planned to kill other Northlanders until I saw it in my own portents.”
TeaTree nodded, appearing to be satisfied with her response. “Nonetheless,” he said, “the only way to persuade the Far Eastern gods to make amends is to encourage them to speak with you.”
“Respect elders!” GranGran said. “Respect gods!”
“Madam’s point is this,” TeaTree said. “If you are unable to treat your own elder with respect, how will you ever be able to show any respect to a god?”
CHAPTER 14
Frayka took TeaTree’s words to heart.
If you are unable to treat your own elder with respect, how will you ever be able to show any respect to a god?
In that moment, Frayka realized that being in a country other than her own meant she should treat Far Easterners with the same regard that she would expect from a stranger who entered her own home.
But how? These people are so different. How will I know the right thing to do?
Frayka decided the best approach would be to study every Far Easterner she met. She could learn the proper way to treat them by the ways they treated each other. And once she learned that, her chances of convincing the local gods to speak with her would improve.
And once the local gods spoke with her, Frayka could convince them to mend their differences with the Northlander gods, which would save her life and the lives of all other Northlanders.
Addressing her great-grandmother, Frayka said, “I will do my best to learn respect for my elders and your gods.” Frayka remembered what Njall said moments ago about her habit of demanding, and she struggled to ask instead. “Might I ask about your portent? Did it show you how I can find these gods? I’ve had no portent about them, and I don’t know how to find them.”
GranGran spoke briefly to TeaTree in Far Eastern and then drank her tea.
“It’s different here in the Far East,” TeaTree said. “Locating the gods is common knowledge.”
“Common?” Njall said. “Are you saying that everyone in this city knows where to find the gods?”
Between sips of tea, GranGran chortled.
“Not quite,” TeaTree said. “But most know the journey one must take in order to find them.”
“Then tell us everything we need to know.” After she spoke, Frayka wished she could take back the words and arrange them in a different way.
Be respectful. Don’t make demands of TeaTree.
“Please,” Frayka said, making another attempt. “Can you tell us what we need to know?”
When TeaTree glanced at GranGran, a flicker of approval crossed her face. “The way to begin is here in the Wulong Province. We will journey to the Gate of Air and seek admittance.”
“Admittance?” Frayka said. “To what?”
“The realm of the dragon gods,” TeaTree said. “Those are the gods you seek. The ones by which your Northlander gods claim to have been harmed.”
Frayka finished her tea and put her empty cup on the table. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
GranGran shook her head in disbelief and clucked.
“Frayka,” Njall whispered to her. “Don’t forget what they said about respect.”
He’s right. We’ll get nowhere if I can’t learn how to get Far Easterners and their gods to talk to me.
“Please,” Frayka said. “TeaTree, GranGran, may we begin our journey to the Gate of Air now?”
GranGran pointed a gnarled finger at Frayka. “Learn language first!” The old woman then stood, balanced her cane across one shoulder, and walked out of the room.
After watching her great-grandmother exit, Frayka turned to TeaTree for an explanation. “I don’t understand,” Frayka said. “Why can’t we leave now?”
“And what did she mean?” Njall said. “Do we have to speak Far Easterner before she lets us leave this house?”
“It is wise to rest and gather your thoughts before beginning any journey,” TeaTree said. “And Madam understands the ways of the royal guards. They are most angry right now because they had you in their grasp only to lose you. Foreign prisoners are valuable and often forced to serve the emperor. I imagine only the guards who captured you knew you had entered our province.”
He collected the empty cups and placed them on the tray along with the teapot. “Meaning, no one in the royal complex knows you exist. What the emperor doesn’t know he’s missing can’t cause his resentment.”
“Does that mean the guards are looking for us and hoping no one knows we’re here in Zangcheen?” Njall said.
TeaTree nodded. “Precisely. If the guards find you today, they will give you to the emperor and gain his good favor. But if no word of your existence travels into the royal complex and the guards fail to find you today, they will have more important orders to follow by tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t they worry about foreigners invading their city?” Njall said.
“They assume one man and one woman pose no trouble. And anyone who poses no trouble has no value. That means it’s not worth the effort to find you.” TeaTree smiled. “They guard borders that are rarely crossed by anyone unknown to the emperor. Their work is easy and demands little of them. Most of the royal guards are lazy.”
“That’s why GranGran wants us to stay here today,” Frayka said. “If we stay here, the royal guards will give up on finding us by the end of the day.”
“Again, precisely,” TeaTree said. “And Madam is quite right that you should learn the Far East language. Although she speaks little Northlander, she understands it perfectly. We understand you, but no one else in the Far East will. Fortunately, I’m quite fluent. It will be my pleasure to teach you.” His manner turned serious. “But I suggest you learn as quickly as you possibly can for your own safety.”
CHAPTER 15
That night Emperor Yuan Po dreamed of a funeral procession.
He followed a throng of people in dark robes, moaning and wailing to the skies above. The royal guards pulled a cart bearing a polished black box large enough to hold a cadaver. Each guard had painted long black streaks down his face and looked as if he cried sinister tears.
Who has died?
Taking note of his surroundings, the emperor realized the procession made its passage through the royal complex. Fear swept through him, and he searched the crowd for the faces most precious to him. Sweeping among them, he identified his many aides and allies, most of his concubines, and his wife. Toward the front of the procession, he found all of his children except his eldest, Ti.
No! My beloved Ti can’t be dead. How did this happen?
Then Emperor Po saw the back of the grand yellow robes of the ruler of the Wulong Province up ahead and his own square black and tasseled hat.
That’s me! Therefore, this is a dream.
Every so often, Emperor Po discovered that what he assumed to be reality was actually nothing more than a dream. On those occasions, he paid close attention. Most of the time, the dreams meant nothing.
But every so often, one of his dream
s came true.
Please, don’t let this be a dream of truth. Let me find my daughter Ti. Let me know she’s alive and safe.
Although Emperor Po continued to search the faces in the funeral procession, he failed to find Ti.
Arriving at the royal Temple of Passing, the guards carried the polished box inside. The rest of the procession remained outside with bowed heads. Only the dream version of Emperor Po in his yellow robes walked to the entrance of the Temple of Passing as if standing to protect the unfortunate soul being delivered into its inner chambers.
The dream emperor stood fast, still facing the temple, while the royal guards emerged from it and walked past him to rejoin the people outside.
The dream emperor raised his arms. At his command, fire exploded from his fingertips and engulfed the interior of the temple. The fire raged for several long minutes and then subsided. When it quieted to an orange glow inside the temple, the dream emperor turned and faced the funeral guests.
Emperor Po stared in amazement, because he didn’t see himself. Instead, the dream emperor was his daughter Ti.
Startled out of the dream, Emperor Po woke up in a cold sweat. Panting as if he had just run from one end of the royal complex to the other, Emperor Po sat up and covered his face with his hands, now trembling. His wife snored softly next to his side.
Was that simply a strange dream? Or could it be one that comes true?
Emperor Po crept out of bed, allowing his wife to continue her slumber. Peering out a window, he saw the pale light of dawn. The sun would rise soon.
My dream was nothing but a dream.
He remembered yesterday’s court and the disturbing necessity to order a widow to be boiled to her death because she refused to obey the province laws that dictated how she should behave in the wake of her husband’s death.
I worry about my beloved child Ti now that she’s come of age to marry. That’s all. I dreamed of her being emperor because then I would not have to worry. If Ti were emperor, then she could make her own choices instead of surrendering to the choices made by others.
Emperor Po stretched and yawned, still mindful to keep quiet and let his wife rest peacefully. Last night when they went to bed, she confided that their youngest daughter had become feverish and ill, so the royal doctors had been called by the girl’s side to watch her through the night. Donning an everyday robe of purple silk, the emperor decided to first check on his child and then offer a sacrifice at the Temple of Dark and Light.
The royal palace sounded quiet so early in the day. Emperor Po noticed his sandals made a flopping sound when he walked down the hallway to the children’s quarters. He was offended by an odor of stale sweat in his grand palace until he realized that odor came from his skin.
At the end of the long hallway, Emperor Po trod softly into the grand bedroom of his youngest child. Wardrobes carved with the shapes of fanciful animals lined the walls. The skylight above allowed the pale light of dawn to fall upon her enormous bed.
A handful of doctors snoozed on benches drawn around the foot of her bed, while another held his hand against the sleeping child’s forehead.
“How is she?” Emperor Po whispered.
The doctor turned toward his emperor and offered a deep bow. “I worry for the child. Her illness burns her skin and strains her breathing, but it is no common illness. She can’t hold drink or food. When we convince her to eat or drink, her body immediately expels whatever she ingests. Every time that happens, she becomes less willing to try to eat or drink.” The doctor shook his head in distress. “I have never seen such an illness before. We do our best to treat it, but nothing works.”
The doctor’s words cut through Emperor Po like a sword aimed to impale him. “You can’t let her die. She’s so young!”
“And therein lies the problem,” the doctor said. “She hasn’t the strength to combat her illness. If she were grown, she would have the fortitude she needs.” He gestured toward one of the snoozing men. “I called in the court magician, but his work has failed alongside ours.”
Emperor Po saw a solution. Dashing to the magician’s side, the emperor shook him awake. Sitting upright with a start, the magician squinted and rubbed his eyes with his fists. He kept his head shaved except for a spot on the back of his head, where his long spiky hair was tightly braided. Only his chin sported facial hair, which he’d also braided. His black satin robe had wrinkled, but the simple white shirt and pants beneath the robe looked surprisingly crisp.
“Come with me,” Emperor Po said. He turned and left the room.
Scrambling to keep up, the magician said, “Wouldn’t you rather I stay by the child’s side? There’s more I can do to try to help her.”
“I have a better idea,” Emperor Po said.
They walked silently through the palace.
Ti’s voice rang out. “Father! Wait!”
Emperor Po turned to see Ti running toward them. Gesturing for the magician to stay by his side, Emperor Po said to his daughter, “Is it your step-sister? Is she all right?”
Catching up with them, Ti looked startled by the question. But she quickly regained her composure. “There’s no change,” Ti said. “I need to talk to you. I have questions.”
The nervous tension on Ti’s face concerned Emperor Po. To the magician, he said, “Go ahead to the Temple of Dark and Light now. I’ll meet you there soon.”
After a quick bow, the magician sped his pace down the hallway and disappeared around a corner.
“What’s wrong, Ti?”
“I overheard people talking last night.” Ti fidgeted. “I heard them say you ordered a woman boiled to death.”
Emperor Po sighed. He’d hoped Ti would hear nothing of yesterday’s court, but she was no longer a young child. Such information would cross her path sooner or later. “A commoner. The woman lived in Zangcheen, not the royal complex. You need have no concern for her.”
Ti persisted. “If you thought she must be boiled to death, you must have good reason.”
“Walk with me.”
With his daughter at his side, Emperor Po set a slow pace to give them time to talk. “The provincial laws state that when a man dies, his wife must show her respect for his passing.”
Ti scrunched her nose. “That means what?”
“Widows are forbidden to remarry, because such an act would sully the first marriage—a woman can belong to only one man. The condemned woman expressed her wish to marry another man on the day after her husband died.”
“That’s why she had to die?” Ti said. “Because she wanted to be happy?”
“Mourning must come first. She also failed to mourn properly.”
“She didn’t cry?”
Even as Emperor Po said the words, he realized how strange they sounded. “Because she didn’t exhibit her mourning by harming herself.”
When Ti raised her voice in the early morning hour, it seemed like a shout. “What?”
“The law requires women to show their grief in a physical way. Some women beat themselves until they have bruises to show for it. Others scrape or cut themselves and show their blood as proof of their grief.”
Huffing as if personally insulted, Ti said, “Who thought that was a good idea?”
“Your ancestors. The family of Po that has ruled the Wulong Province for the past 1000 years. Our blood kin established laws on behalf of the citizens who rely on us to protect them.”
“The laws didn’t protect the woman from boiling to death.”
The sharpness in Ti’s tone worried Emperor Po, and he agonized over what he could say to his daughter to help her understand the complexities of life.
“Then again,” Ti said with a lighter voice, “that woman was a commoner. You would never let me get boiled, would you, Father?”
“Of course not!” Emperor Po answered quickly. “I will never allow harm to come to you.”
“Then tell Ming Shen he can’t marry me.”
Startled by the sudden change in co
nversation, Emperor Po noticed the stern expression in his daughter’s eyes.
Is this why she asked about the woman’s death? To make a point about Ti’s own safety? Because she fears I will arrange for her marriage without telling her?
Emperor Po decided to approach the subject of marriage with caution. “Ming Shen is my most trusted advisor.”
“He’s three times my age!” Ti protested. “And he has a wandering eye for girls. Not women, but girls. Ming Shen disgusts me.”
“Duly noted.” Emperor Po had never seen Ming Shen express an interest in girls, but rumors had circulated for years. He trusted Ti’s opinion. “What do you think of Li Chien? He’s closer to your age and holds a position that promises growth.”
“Li Chien?” Ti giggled. “That’s fine if you never want grandchildren.” When her father gave her a blank look, Ti said, “Li Chien has no interest in me because he has no interest in women. But he stares at the most handsome men in the palace all the time.”
Again, Emperor Po had heard rumors but hoped they weren’t true because he liked the idea of a good man like Li Chien as a son-in-law. “I see. Is there any man you would like to have as a husband?”
Without hesitation Ti said, “Asu Chu.”
Caught by surprise, Emperor Po laughed. “Asu Chu? The magician’s son? He’s much younger than you! So young that he has no idea what to do with a woman.”
Ti spoke rapidly. “He’s the son of one of your highest-ranking officials. He comes from a good family. And he’s not that much younger than me. Asu may act like a silly child now, but he will turn into a fine young man soon. You have no right to reject him because of his age. You were younger than Mother.”
There it is. She still resents me.
“I miss her,” Emperor Po said. “To this day, I still miss her.”
“And yet it didn’t take long for you to re-marry.” Ti’s face took on a rock-hard expression. She sniffed in disapproval. “And no one boiled you alive for doing it.”