I then imagined the thing I had tried so hard not to think about until that moment. I imagined her dead. I sat up from my futon, balling my fists and pounding the floor, angry at how helpless I was to save her. I wanted to make myself understand that she was gone, that, like my parents, she too had passed away. I wanted these hateful feelings to go away. I wanted to make myself understand that there was no changing what had happened, but my mind was relentless, and it continued to feed my guilt by flashing images of her face. I pounded the floor over and over until I slumped into my futon again in a tired stupor.
I was still awake, simmering in my despair when I heard a sudden rush of feet approach from down the hall. My door slid open revealing the Boar and a temple servant beside him holding a lantern.
"Get your things," was all he said.
He and his servant led me silently past the courtyard and through the temple grounds until we approached the gates where a horse-drawn carriage awaited us. Inside was Kassashimei, with her head turned stubbornly away.
"Get in," he ordered.
"Tell me what’s happening?" I asked. "Am I going to be a slave?"
He grabbed my shoulder, as if taking offense to what I’d said.
"You're much more important than you know Terr, both you and Kassashimei. Master Hotaka said what he needed to say in front of Master Lu and the other officials. But he knows, as well as I, that gifted people such as you should not be wasted on petty things. We are preserving your future Terr. We are preserving this country's future, so that even if everything were to fall, you and the others would still remain to keep its traditions alive."
"Master Ichiro, what do you mean? Is something going to happen?"
"A change is coming Terr, and we all have to prepare for it.” From the firm expression on his face, he allowed the tiniest hint of a smile to appear. “Don’t forget, there’s still a test that lies ahead for you."
The journey down Mt. Ko Mei seemed strangely serene, almost peaceful. Even the clacking of the horses' hooves and the clatter of the carriage against the rough, dirt road seemed somehow subdued. Before we left, the Boar informed us of a place in Capital City that awaited us; a small school that trained and took care of people like us. In the distance, just above the tree tops at the base of the mountain sat the shining lights of the city. Seeing them from atop the mountain, the city seemed nothing more than a faint glow at night, as clouds and fog shrouded most of what we could see. But now that we were so much closer, and below the hazy mountain top, the city's brilliance revealed itself to me for the very first time. I watched, transfixed like a moth gazing into a flame, growing more anxious and nervous as we steadily approached.
"I wasn't going to cry," Kassashimei said abruptly.
I turned my attention to the girl beside me and noticed that she was still looking away.
"You saw me didn't you?" she continued. "The way I was back then when we faced Master Hotaka? I wasn't going to cry. No matter what you thought, no matter how my face looked I wasn't going to cry."
"Kass, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I got you in trouble. If it wasn't for me-"
"Say it Terr, say that you believe me," she said in a tone that sounded desperate. She finally turned her head towards me, but her face was hidden in the night's, moonless, murky shadow. "You believe me right? I don't cry. I don't ever cry."
"What are you talking about? I'm trying to apologize and you're talking about crying."
"Don't apologize," she said, giving me a forceful shove. "You may be selfish and stubborn, but I chose to be your shyo mah. If you apologize now, it will be like saying that I made the wrong choice to be paired with you. Is that how you want me to feel? Do you want me to regret being your shyo mah?"
I rubbed my shoulder, sighing awkwardly.
"Why did you do it then," I asked. "Why did you choose me?"
"Because Etsu asked me dummy."
"Is that the only reason?"
She was silent for moment. Though I could not see her face, I saw her hand fiddling uneasily with the loose end of her sash that was tied about the waist of her robe.
"Did you know that my family comes from many generations of devout fortune tellers and priests? We were among the most respected in the northern provinces. All sorts of people, even rich dignitaries came for our predictions and words of wisdom. If my family told someone that they were going to be rich… well, they were probably going to be. But sometimes I wondered if it really was destiny, or if it was because we encouraged him to work harder.
Of all twenty four of my brothers, sisters and cousins, my parents predicted that one of us would not follow into priesthood. And so, when the spirits revealed to them that I was to be that person, that I was meant for other things; everyone, including my grandparents and great grandparents, made it their duty to map out my life and to bless it with as much good fortune as possible.
According to their predictions, they said that I would find myself atop a mountain, high above the world, that I would meet a boy with a sort of courage that I would come to admire. They said that he would inspire me to accomplish great things, and with our lives entwined, help shape the world together."
She clenched her sash with a balled fist. "It was their way of telling me that I should grow up to be successful and rich, that I should marry a good man, or be shunned as the child who failed her family. Even though I was raised as a priestess, there are some destinies I refuse to believe in, especially the ones that are forced upon me. I never became the shining daughter that my parents wanted me to be.”
She gave a sly laugh. “You want to know a secret? I’m an even worse student than you are. I struggled everyday to be as mediocre as possible. I failed as many tests as I passed, and was even scolded more times than I could count. But I was glad; I was happy you see. Because it meant that I was forging my own future, that some predictions, no matter how spiritual, are sometimes nothing more than vain expectations."
"Is that why you accepted when Etsu asked you to become my shyo mah?"
"You're not rich are you?"
I shook my head.
"You aren't in anyway related to the Emperor or have cousins with piles of money who are willing to adopt you?"
I shook my head again."
"That's good. Then you aren't in my parents’ predictions, and you certainly aren't courageous or inspiring."
I grunted, pretending to be disappointed. "So is that it? I have none of the traits that this prediction said I‘d have?"
"Nope, none at all. Unless you dream of dragons."
"What?"
"My parents also said that he would dream of dragons."
Chaper 10
The creature that shook the ground when he spoke, that bellowed fire into the sky; the very serpent that visited my dreams, haunted my very thoughts as we proceeded towards the city. I’d dreamed of dragons from the very moment that I had discovered my abilities, but I chose not to tell her of any of this. For the moment, she seemed content, and I did not want to shake her of that. Still, what she said left me all the more curious about her, and my suspicious mind pushed at my doubts in such a way that I started to believe that she had even more secrets she had yet to reveal.
When we finally came to the capital, I was bombarded all at once by the immensity of my surroundings. It was as if I were a newly hatched beach turtle, facing the vast, roaring sea for the first time. Buildings of wood, paper and stone hugged the cobbled streets like towering giants huddled against each other. Shops of different shapes and sizes, some colorful, some plain, some like mansions, others like humble shacks, all lined up in never-ending rows. In all my life, I had never seen anything so orderly, so neatly fashioned.
Back at home, there were only ragged shops haphazardly littered about. The roads were nothing more than uneven dirt trails that zigzagged between buildings, but here, there was a sea of civilization, a vast blanket of human life upon the earth, sparkling vibrantly against the night within a sea of gleaming paper lanterns and str
eet lamps woven deep into its fabric.
The streets were chaotic and noisy, filled with peddlers and merchants. The steamy smells of fried dumplings and incense wafted the air.
The driver tossed into our laps two large bamboo hats, adorned with gold braids on the rims and a large, single flowery crest I had never seen before painted across the top.
He ordered us to put them on quickly, and to make sure the brims covered our eyes. When I asked why, he stopped the carriage and climbed to the back. He adjusted our hats and made sure our chin straps were tied snuggly against the meat of our jaws.
"You are not common children," he said. "From now on, when you are in public, you are forbidden from displaying your faces or your eyes. The veil of secrecy must be kept."
It all seemed so strange to me, like traveling back in time. Hundreds of years ago, during the age of the Middle Dynasty, royalty and members of the upper class wore the same hats, adorned sometimes with elaborate decorations of gold and brass and even tiny, chiming bells hanging from their wide, circular rims. It was considered taboo to gaze upon the face of the aristocracy unless their permission was given.
These days there were still a few, rare people that wore them, to include the Emperor and his family as well as a few conservative magistrates.
As for children like myself, we were made to respect the same, ancient traditions as no one from the outside was allowed to gaze upon the eyes of a chienkuu ko; at least not up close. During stage performances, like the one that was held in my village, people were only allowed to admire them from afar and wonder as to the mysteries behind their oddly colored eyes. That was the way these things were presented, for it was this very aura of wonder and mystery that commanded a great amount of respect.
Kassashimei and I kept our heads low and most of our faces hidden as people stopped to gaze at the two regal-looking children rolling steadily by on an imperial carriage. I suppose I should have felt honored to have garnered so much attention and respect. Even a few people bowed, confused as to the prospect that we were perhaps royalty. But in fact, I was disappointed. With my hat obscuring most of my sight I could no longer admire the vast inspiring visions that the city had laid out before me.
Without hardly any warning, an air vessel appeared from the darkness and rumbled slowly overhead. Painted across its underbelly, was a sprawling oak tree with branches that stretched from one edge of the hull to the other. Large, bulbous electric lamps lit its underside, showing off its painted crest to the world below. Hardly anyone paid much attention to the spectacle above as this must have been a common daily event for them. But as for me I watched with an upward, captivated gaze, ignoring the driver's warnings about keeping my face hidden. I told myself that there were children just like myself, inside such vessels, leading it along across a sky wrought with the turbulence of an invisible sea.
Suddenly, Kassashimei's palm darted in front of my eyes and grabbed the brim of my hat. She yanked my head downward. I gave a sharp grunt and turned a glare in her direction, but she immediately looked away, as if she were pretending she‘d lost interest in me.
She had kept a glum silence about her ever since we entered the capital. I asked if she was alright.
All she said was, "I hate the city."
It was called the Tiger Lily Tea House, and as we approached, I noticed the same circular flower crest painted on the sign outside as the one that appeared on the brim of my hat. A wall of stone and red-painted wood surrounded the building.
When the carriage stopped, an anxious servant dressed in pale green robes helped us down and lead us through the gates and past a small rock garden, bridged by a wide piece of wood. The building itself was three floors high, with wooden walls that were patched in some places with mismatched planks here and there. Some of the wooden pillars that held up the first floor porch and its tiled roof were terribly chipped and the paint looked dull and worn. The steady light that loomed from inside, seemed to give the outside a tired, old look.
And yet, when the servant woman slid open the main door, took our shoes and led us inside, everything seemed to spark instantly to life. There were guests everywhere, laughing and cheering. In the main room, there were about twenty men, kneeling at various tables, chatting happily, while geisha sat patiently beside them, pouring their sake and dancing gracefully on a tiny stage at the far end of the room.
Other sliding doors led to smaller tatami rooms, reserved for private meetings and certain important occasions.
We went upstairs to the second floor where the loud festivities below was reduced to a low hum. We stopped at the end of a long, narrow hall where the servant woman reverently slid open a door and waved us in. Inside, was a study with a small desk accompanied on either side with shelves and tables, each decorated with various trinkets and animal carvings shaped of wood and metal. Immediately, I recognized the decorations and watched with earnest, the familiar stern woman who gazed back at us as she approached from the far end of the room. It was Miss Nishio.
"I sold you to the Imperial Temple for a lot of money," she said in her typical, high-pitched, broken voice. "And already you cause me trouble by getting kicked out."
The servant removed our hats before Miss Nishio reached out to clasp my chin. She turned my head from side to side, examining my eyes carefully.
"They're not even green yet," she said with a scoff.
"Where is my sister," I demanded, swiping her hand from my face. "You lied to me. You made up that story about the storm coming to my village. You stole me away from my family so you could make more money."
The servant woman, hearing my bout of disrespect rushed back into the room, clasped my shoulders and pulled me back a few steps.
"Terr, I did not lie to you," she said. "It was your sister who did. I told both her and Mister Takaya about the plague sweeping the island. She knew about the Imperial verdict that kept anyone from entering or leaving. As an official with a certain amount of power, I was the only one allowed to leave. I would have left you and those other two children behind, had it not been for your sister’s and your friends’ parents' pleading. It took me days to convince the government that you were too precious to the empire and that you were worth saving.” She must have read my face and seen that I was hardly convinced, because she shook her head, as if taking pity upon my arrogance. “I heard what you did to Master Lu. Hate him if you must, but remember, it was his influence, even if he only used it to save his daughter, that finally convinced the government officials to come get you. Your Sister wanted you to be safe. She did not care about anything else. She probably made up that story about the storm so that you would not worry about her."
"What about Han and Kiddou's parent's? They told me that their parents were safe, that they left the island."
"Also a lie. It’s a parent's duty to make sure their children are protected from sorrow and pain, at least until they grow a few years in age. You and those other two children should be grateful to have people that care for you so."
I was so taken aback by her words, that I’d barely begun to realize that I was breathing hard and my hands had balled tightly into fists. I could hardly look at her. How could she say such things without sympathy, without regard for my loss? How could adults be so cold?
"So they're still on the island, dying?" I said, my voice starting to choke.
"They're already dead." She was silent for a moment, allowing her words to sink in. Then, after carefully looking me over, she took a few steps forward and slapped me hard across the face.
I did not cry, but I was surprised, shaken by a mixture of sadness, anger and regret.
"You stupid, worthless child," she said sharply. "Your sister gave up everything for you, including her life; and this is how you honor her? She gave you a chance to learn in the finest school in the empire, to serve in the Imperial court, and you tossed it away because you let your anger and your pride get the better of you.
Do you think that Rune is the only village suffe
ring right now? The plague is all over the country. Hundreds of people are dying everyday and yet, you selfishly think that you are the most unfortunate of them all.
You are lucky to be alive. And you are even more lucky that I do not toss you out onto the street. If Master Hotaka had asked me to give back the money the temple paid me for finding and delivering you, I would have already done it. Both he and Master Ichiro have asked that I save what little future you have as a chienkuu ko in return for allowing me to keep the earnings. I will train you, and you will work hard. Honor your sister. Do not shame everything she has done for you."
Her words rang like ripples upon a pond, shattering every hope I had of ever seeing my sister again. Confused, wrecked and torn, I knew at that moment of only one thing; that somehow I must pickup the pieces one by one, and see what kind of person I would become.
Kassashimei had not said anything. Nothing at all. What could she say? Even as the servant led us to our rooms on the third floor, she kept silent, like a solemn priestess at a funeral procession. We were given separate rooms. Mine was hardly larger than a closet. It was drab and filled with dust, a sign that it hadn‘t been used in quite sometime.
I laid on my futon, nursing the sting on my cheek as I looked up at the ragged, wooden ceiling, barely able to think. My sister, my village, everything that I had known or held dear was gone. What lay before me still lay hidden, shrouded by the whims of an uncertain fate.
I heard the faint patter of footsteps approaching my room. The light from the hallway lit the outline of a girl’s silhouette against the paper and wood door. It was Kassashimei.
"Terr, I wanted to tell you that I knew you weren't going to cry. Even when she slapped you, you didn’t give in, " she said in what sounded like the first caring voice I’d heard since leaving the temple. "I take back everything I said about you being a coward. I would have broken down in an instant if I knew my family was gone. And don't you dare worry about me, or apologize for everything that has happened. I never liked that drafty temple or its teachers. Besides, I have a feeling that being around you is going to be a lot more interesting."
Sky of Paper: An Asian Steam-Driven Fantasy Tale Page 24