We talked about all sorts of things, but mostly about my life before I became a chienkuu ko. I told him about how I made pottery with my mother, and about how I used to play with my classmates in the river during the long, humid summer months. I told him about festivals, fireworks and how sometimes I missed the taste of cheap octopus meat, bought from a tiny shack across the way from my house. The more I told him about my life, the more he longed for it; which made me all the more ashamed, because I couldn’t bear to tell him that some of my stories were completely made up. I lied about how I came to serve the Imperial Palace. I told him that I was judged to be the most gifted student at the temple and that my shyo mah and I came to the palace as court performers, entertaining foreign dignitaries and ferrying them about in sky boats.
Though I was not proud of falsely glorifying my life, I had to accept that these were among some of the duties given to me by Dae Jung, who personally had to approve my lies before they fell upon the Young Emperor's ears. Though I was required to keep Dae Jung informed about our conversations, there was a fearful secret that I was determined to never reveal.
He would never know that I possessed the Young Emperor's true name.
I learned from school of the terrible punishments commoners faced if they were ever caught in possession of forbidden knowledge.
Knowing the grim consequences, I was left to wonder why the Young Emperor had cursed me with such misfortune. Perhaps he was testing me. . . or maybe it truly was out of friendship that he trusted me with his sacred name.
Did he mean for me to feel honored for bearing such knowledge?
Though it pained me to worry about such things, I’d managed to convince myself to ignore these trivial burdens that night as he and I walked the main deck of the ship. Kassashimei followed close behind us, casually waving her ritual stick about.
"Why is she with us?" the Young Emperor asked.
"Because she and I both need your help," I said. "Since you’ve entrusted me with your name, I’m going to tell you something that I feel is just as forbidden. My shyo mah and I are going to do something tonight that Dae Jung might not approve."
For a moment, the Young Emperor seemed confused, then he craned his head about, probably checking to see if the guards were nearby.
"It's about your tamma isn't it?" he queried in a hushed voice.
I did not reply at first. Immediately, I felt myself a fool for even mentioning this to the Young Emperor. I looked away slightly, wondering if I’d already gotten myself in trouble.
"That's it isn't it?" he said.
"How do you know about-"
"About your tamma?" he interrupted. "I know about it. Everyone does. Including Ai. She was the one who allowed the King's nieces' to keep it as a gift."
"Then she knows? She knows the shame I've caused her?"
"It seems you haven't spoken to her yet."
"Please!" I blurted. "Help me. Help me get my tamma back."
I bowed, pleading like some sort of criminal confessing my crime, then waited for his reply, keeping my eyes fixed to the ground.
"Does he beg this pitifully in front of you often?" Kassashimei said casually, as if she’d been friends with the Young Emperor all along.
"No," he answered. "This is the first time he’s ever asked anything of me."
"Then I too would humbly ask for your favor." She spoke in such a soft respectful tone, that I couldn’t help but be taken aback by it.
My anxiety grew as I started to ponder the consequences of my words, the insolence and sheer contempt I’d committed for even considering that I ask a personal request of the future leader of our country. His very silence left me dreading.
Finally, as if ready to pass judgment, he said, "no. The Emperor will not help you. As a matter of fact, the Emperor should have you punished again for even thinking about stealing from the King's family, which would undoubtedly soil the Imperial Court's reputation."
He placed his hand on my shoulders and had me stand.
My head was still lowered, but he slanted his gaze in such a way, that I knew he was demanding I look directly at him. And so I did.
"The Emperor is not who you should be asking," he said quietly. "Instead you should be asking a friend."
I was hesitant, barely able to accept what he was truly saying. But I’d gone this far, and I couldn’t allow myself anymore doubt, so I dared speak the words that would either help or condemn me.
"Jiro, will you please help me retrieve my tamma."
He gave a sliver of a smile followed by a slight, approving nod.
I once asked my sister just after our morning ceremonies if the Emperor was indeed our friend. Everyday, without fail, we asked him in our morning chants to grant us prosperity and goodwill. If he was so kind as to give us that, then certainly he longs for our friendship. She looked at me in such a way that she must have thought of me as naive to ask such a thing.
"Terr, the Emperor is no more a friend to us than a father is to his family," she said. "He has no need for friends. He wants us to prosper because that is what any father would want of his family. In return he commands our respect and loyalty. Such is the heartbeat of our nation."
My sister had preached to me about how great a man he was, devoid of the petty flaws of common men. His intentions were noble and his character was something to be admired. I wondered if the boy I followed that evening was any of that. Being someone of noble upbringing, surely he must not have thought our friendship all that important. But deep down inside him, I imagined there was indeed something fatherly about his choice to help me.
The Young Emperor lead us through the palace grounds, a look of conviction spread across his face. A dozen imperial soldiers, glistening in traditional brass chest plates and menacing spears in their hands, shuffled close behind us. Whether or not the Young Emperor had intended for them to come, I hardly knew, but they loyally followed, keeping a close watch over him the very minute we left the airship. Staying diligent to his duties as well, Ren Tzu was also with us.
When we arrived at the inner palace, the guards at the gates looked on in surprise at the small party of people approaching. The Young Emperor assumed his imperial demeanor and hardly acknowledged their presence before he made his announcement.
"The Emperor wishes to see the King’s niece, his betrothed."
His betrothed?
To the king's niece?
His commanding voice seemed to proclaim his arranged marriage to me as well as the guard. I found myself jarred, even intrigued by the mysterious life of the noble before me. He kept his regal eyes forward, letting the aura of his imperial presence herald his undeniable request. The royal guard seemed to understand this all too well and with great haste guided us through the halls of the palace.
Another large set of doors awaited us, ones which were opened slowly and with great care. Jiro commanded his guards to stay in the hall. He then looked at me, as if implying something. I nodded and asked that Ren Tzu stay in the hall with the guards. With the grace of a poet warrior, he gently sat down upon one of the benches next to the door. He crossed his legs in a meditating manner and laid his sword across his lap, looking onward in a peaceful, but attentive gaze. The soldiers stoically stood by, awaiting the call of their Young Emperor.
As we entered the cavernous room, there was but the dimmest, pale glow, shining softly from the sparse lanterns that hung from the high ceiling above. There stood a large shrine, partially hidden by the shadows at the far end of the room, with candles lined in neat rows along low shelves that looked like wooden steps.
At the foot of the shrine was a girl.
She was the younger of the two whom I’d met earlier that day. She was dressed in her ceremonial crimson robes, which had patterns of winter lilies sown into the fabric with silver and bright orange thread. Her brass hair ornaments and the way her hair caught the tiny slivers of light in the room, made the girl seem much more beautiful and pleasant than the one that had so viciously take
n my tamma that afternoon.
A tiny flame was cupped in her hands, wrapped by a delicate piece of paper. She seemed unsure of herself as she moved gracefully in a sort of dance to one of the candles, then hesitantly lowered her hands towards the candle wick. Her breath hastened, feeling the heat of the tiny flame grow closer to her palms as she tilted it in an attempt to light the candle. She squealed as the fragile paper that contained the flame caught fire, and instinctively, she dropped it. An attendant immediately came forward and wiped her hands with a damp cloth, while another picked up the burnt remains from the ground.
"This is your fault," she said, glaring at the Young Emperor. "Because I’m forced to marry you, they make me practice these stupid ceremonies."
About a decade after the war, I returned to the Eastern Kingdom and watched from afar as one of the royal family's princesses took part in one of the kingdom's most sacred marriage customs, the Candle Courtship Ceremony. The bride held a piece of paper in the shape of a shallow cup which signified the couple's marriage. Within was a tiny flame that represented the spirit of the couple's lives destined to be intertwined. Amidst the ring of bells and the chime of string instruments, she carried the flame with great care in both her palms, lighting candle after candle. For each candle lit, the couple blessed themselves with the promise of a longer, healthier future as well as increasing the prospects of raising prosperous children. Often, rumors of good or bad fortune within the royal family would hinge upon the bride's careful diligence as she carried the flame from one candle to another. I admired the bride’s skill, as she balanced it in such a way that the flame's heat would not touch the sides of the paper and thus, set the whole thing aflame.
But this young, frustrated girl I saw before me was certainly not like that graceful woman I would see years later. She stammered to the Young Emperor as if they were rival classmates. She pushed back the attendants who tried to keep her calm as she stepped towards her would-be husband.
"Because of you," she continued. "I can't go to bed tonight until I've lit every candle here with that horrible scrap of paper."
"You sound like you don't care about this marriage at all," the Young Emperor replied. "Remember, it was Dae Jung and your uncle that arranged this marriage. And I know all-too-well that it's been my father's wish for many years that both of our families seal our ties by bringing the two of us together."
"I just want to go to bed. I'm too tired to do this."
She took her eyes away from her betrothed and looked at me the way a person looks at a mosquito crawling about her arm.
"And why is he here?" she asked.
"I've come for my tamma," I said bluntly.
"You mean that tacky-looking crystal ball?" She smiled, still reveling over the victory, both she and her sister had won over me. "You came all the way here for that?"
"He did," Kassashimei blurted. "Now give it back to him."
A silent moment came over us as she gave me an expectant gaze, playing at my hopes. Her taunt wrested all-the-more at my patience.
"No," she said simply.
"Give it back," I shouted.
"Terr!" The Young Emperor’s stern voice echoed louder than mine as he placed himself between both me and the girl.
He turned to her and said, "I know that earlier today you asked him to perform for you. I will command him to do this, but you must present his tamma in return."
"That is not enough," she replied haughtily. “If he wants his precious ball back, then I will require more than just a simple performance. He needs to impress me. And if my first meeting with him is any indication of what he‘s capable of, then I doubt he will ever get it back."
"You underestimate him," Kassashimei said. "He can do more than you can ever imagine."
Chapter 18
Far west of the humble islands of Ruin Nan, stood the mighty continent of Kin Ju. And along its eastern coast, lay the Eastern Kingdom, one of the few remaining nations in the world still ruled by a monarchy. Within the palace walls resided one of the most ambitious members of the Royal Family. Her name was Princess Xiangfeng.
Historians would depict her as the warrior queen, a woman whose fierce spirit and love of the military would herald the coming of a new dynasty, one which would see the nation's borders expand three fold and ferry the nation into becoming one of the most powerful in the world.
Later, Queen Xiangfeng would die after only ten years in power. All her efforts in overthrowing the true successor to the throne, her uncle's son, would bring her many enemies. One of which, would bring about an assassin that would eventually end her life.
Within the span of her short existence, she would marry and divorce four times. Many believed she felt threatened at having a king at her side, sharing her power. But as prolific as she was, few remembered the time when she almost married a young would-be exiled Rui Nan Emperor.
She was a child, just as I was when she watched me that evening, from across the way in one of the palace's many shrine rooms. Kassashimei sat behind me, awaiting the steady, commanding motions of my body, while Jiro, the Young Emperor was on the opposite side of the room, with a look of eager anticipation strewn across his face.
I was to perform privately for the future warrior queen, who was then, a selfish, greedy girl. The precious tamma she had stolen from me would be mine again, only after I had satisfied her request.
In the center of the room, lying upon the floor, there was a small cup made of paper, which held a tiny, fragile flame, the same object used by the bride in the kingdom's marriage ceremonies.
Surrounding it were hundreds of candles. Row upon row they stood, lined up upon stepped shelves which were braced against the walls. Lighting such candles in that delicate manner I had seen earlier would have taken her all night, perhaps well into the next day. So this was just as much a favor to her as it was an exhibition of my skills.
I had seen the way those strange wings of fire had been manipulated that day when our airship arrived at the Eastern Kingdom. I even remember watching with muted excitement as Lai lashed about the fire tail like a long banner upon the breeze. I wanted to do the same, and I would show Princess Xiangfeng as well as myself that I could master it.
Moving the ether around and into the paper cup, I made the tiny flame grow. Like a cobra hovering over its vase-like cage, the flame petered lazily about as it steadily grew taller. I balanced it as best as I could, being careful not to catch the cup on fire.
Xiangfeng gasped as she stepped around the room while she observed the fire‘s timid dance.
It was then that I snapped my arm to the side.
Kassashimei responded in kind, and like an arrow, the flame shot in the direction of my arm. It spiraled and dove, then bounded from candle to candle, setting ablaze one candlewick after another.
Intwined and mystically connected, both the flame and my upper body whirled in a frenzy of dramatic choreography. Kassashimei's lucky beads clacked loudly from my wrist as I whipped my arms to and fro, transforming it into a jet of blazing rope that stretched the length of the room.
The Young Emperor seemed hardly impressed. . . or at least he pretended. Still, I suppose he was used to seeing this sort of thing.
"You're like a tamer of snakes," Xiangfeng said, amused. “The sort that burns of course.”
Xiangfeng's attendants also watched on, a look of awe glazed upon their eyes. I too was impressed with myself, so much so, that I was blind to my own folly. The stream of fire grew with every candle lit. Hundreds fed their light to a creature that wriggled like a tenacious beast, growing weary of its master. Focused on the motions of the ether that controlled the flame, I paid hardly any attention to the writhing fury that grew steadily around me. Then like a great, twisting vine, there was a sudden howl, then a blaze that lit the room with such a horrendous glow, that everyone teetered backwards shielding their eyes from the burst of searing light.
The serpent flame had shaped itself into the form of a blazing, leafless tree, it
's roots stretching into the myriad candles that surrounded it. The branches reached for the ceiling and like nails of iron, pierced the wood and stone, cracking their foundations.
Xiangfeng screamed, as did the servants, who fled for the door. The Young Emperor bounded for his betrothed and lead her away. Kassasshimei looked on just as I did, captivated by the thing we had created. She must have seen it too; an enormous tower of flame shaped to our will, and casting upon us, a grim spell of admiration that at first, kept our fears at bay.
"Terr, kill it, put it out," the Young Emperor commanded.
Amidst the heat and the stinging smell of charred wood, I waved my arms about, wrapping the flame against the ether's embrace. Still, the fiery beast was too large, and as if mocking my vain efforts, it burst forth from its cage and grew larger still.
It reached out to me with a long, writhing arm, seeking out its creator. Fear finally came to me and I looked back at Kassashimei as she tugged hurriedly at my arm.
Ren Tzu's sword swung downwards, severing the fiery limb. He swung again, cutting away at the flame and waving me away, but his blade was not enough. Slowly, the fire reached for him too, seeking another victim to consume.
The ether moved suddenly like a great wave upon the shore, and crashed through the doors and upon the fire. The creature howled in protest.
It was Ai.
With a graceful twirling motion, she spun into the room, letting loose another ethereal wave. Then, with a downward wisp of her arms, she brought down a mighty cascade upon the flame's shoulders, causing it to bow towards the ground, then whimper away, leaving behind a few faintly glowing embers.
Sky of Paper: An Asian Steam-Driven Fantasy Tale Page 39