by Grace Lin
The nearest island was nothing more than a giant rock with the barest scrub of green. As the old woman approached in a rowboat, the birds swooped away in a billowing black curve and she saw that in the middle of the empty rock grew a strange tree. It was straight and branchless, and when the old woman got nearer, she realized it was made of metal. It was the Iron Rod.
As soon as her fingers grazed the cold metal, the earth began to grumble. The old woman quickly wrapped one arm around the Iron Rod, clasping her grandchild protectively with the other.
And she was just in time. For, as if all the earth dragons were waking from nightmares, the grumbles became snarls and the sea began to bellow. Huge waves crested and covered them, leaving the old woman gasping. She clung even tighter to the Iron Rod and the baby, who only stared up at her grandmother with eyes as old as a mountain.
But the grandmother’s eyes were fixed on the seashore. Even from the island, she could see the land rear toward the sky and the tall buildings collapse and crumble as if made of sand. Above the thunderous destruction, she could hear screams and shrieks, and when the old woman closed her eyes, the salt water on her face was not only from the ocean waves.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the roars began to quiet and the old woman raised her head. The baby began to whimper, and slowly, the old woman loosened her hold on the Iron Rod.
As soon as she no longer touched the metal, the Iron Rod began to shrink. It grew smaller and smaller until it seemed nothing more than a blade of grass. The old woman reached down and saw the Iron Rod was now a needle, fine and delicate. Silently, she threw the needle into the sea. A wave surged upward to catch it, and as it did, another wave pushed the rowboat toward the island, making it drift straight to her.
The old woman returned to the city. But it could not be called a city, for it was, as the dragon had predicted, destroyed. The few who had survived crawled out to cry at her feet. “Forgive us,” they sobbed. “We should have listened to you.” The old woman wept with them, finding no solace in having been right, for her son-in-law was among the dead.
After burying her son-in-law, the old woman left the city. People treated her as a prophet or a sage, and she knew she was neither. All she wished was to raise her granddaughter, so small and precious, away from harm and she remembered a mountain she had visited in her youth.
“There,” the old woman said to the baby in her arms. “That is where I will keep you safe.”
So they went to the mountain. And there, on the mountain whose top seemed to touch the moon, the old woman found peace and contentment. For her grandchild grew up protected and away from danger, and the only wish the old woman had was for that to never change.
“And did it?” the stonecutter asked, his keen eyes looking at Amah in sympathy.
“Stories cannot tell all,” she said, and shrugged with heaviness, and the stonecutter saw her eyes suddenly haunted with worry.
“I disagree,” the stonecutter said, his hand reaching to pat Amah’s. “I think stories tell everything.”
CHAPTER
20
How could this be happening to him? His breath could snap trees, his strength could hold up the earth! He was the Black Tortoise of Winter! The heavens and the sea honored him! He, the indestructible, the mighty!
But he felt the force on his back from the enormous—what was it? What was pinning him down, pressing on him with so much weight that he could not move? What could be so heavy that he, the great Black Tortoise, the strongest of all beasts, could not lift it?
His limbs struck outward, tearing into nothingness. He craned his neck and snapped at the unseen object, his breath creating a crackling of ice on his shell.
He tried again to rise, but his arms and legs only sank into a slippery smoothness, like a deep silk pillow swallowing his limbs.
Who would dare do this to him? Who would dare insult him this way? Who would be this foolish, this arrogant, this devious, this… mad?
Not a beast. Not an immortal. Only a human.
Did this human not know that the Black Tortoise was forever? Oh, how he would make this human pay! For all eternity, the human would regret making the Black Tortoise of Winter so… so…
Helpless.
CHAPTER
21
BaiMa galloped through the gates of the City of Bright Moonlight. With Lady Meng as a companion, they had easily found shelter for the evening, and they had been riding most of the day. The wind and snow had howled around them, whipping the trees as well as their faces. So even BaiMa was eager when the city began to swell in the distance. The grand palace rose above the rest of the city like a mountain, the thick snow lying on its tiered roofs like heavy clouds. With a triumphant yell from Yishan, BaiMa had flown toward the city.
The stone lions that flanked either side of the gates were wearing wigs and beards of snow, and they grinned as the horse passed through. The lions were the only ones with smiles, however, as all the other inhabitants of the city just stared at them with awe or horror—Pinmei was not sure which.
Almost wordlessly, people jumped out of their way, and Lady Meng did not even have to slow the horse. The common stone houses and the white snow were a gray blur, and BaiMa’s hooves on the black brick road made a metallic noise, almost like the clinking of coins. Ahead, Pinmei saw a dull crimson barrier that stretched for miles. That’s the wall around the palace grounds, Pinmei thought, remembering Amah’s stories. That’s the Inner City and everything else is the Outer City. It’s supposed to be like a city inside a city.
“A walled city for the king of Bright Moonlight, the Vast Wall for the emperor,” Yishan said in a mocking tone. “Rulers love walls, don’t they?”
“Halt!” a voice, harsh and commanding, rang out above the sound of BaiMa’s striking hooves.
Lady Meng pulled the horse to a stop, and Pinmei turned to see two guards on either side of the gate of the Inner City, neither of whom she had noticed before.
“I am here to see the king,” Lady Meng said with the aristocratic dignity of an empress. From the corner of her eye, Pinmei saw Lady Meng nudge Yishan with her elbow, a warning for silence.
“The king is not seeing anyone,” the guard said. Even though he was supposed to be the king’s guard, his helmet had the emblem of the emperor—the face of a snarling tiger, the metal already turning green.
“He will see me,” Lady Meng said. She pushed down the hood of her cloak and looked directly at him, letting the full force of her beauty and rank pour upon him like a waterfall. Indeed, the guard looked dazed and overwhelmed, and Pinmei suddenly realized how even a hero who would not be stopped by the fear of turning into ice could be slowed by a beautiful woman.
“Well, maybe—” the guard began to stammer.
“We aren’t supposed to let anyone into the Inner City,” the other guard cut in.
Lady Meng shifted her gaze, tossing her hair so it made a black cloud above them. Tiny jewels of snow sparkled around her.
“I am not ‘anyone,’ ” she said with regal authority.
“No… yes…” the second guard said, equally bewildered by Lady Meng. “It’s just the king—”
“Would be angered to hear that I was delayed in such a vulgar way,” Lady Meng said, her voice the hypnotic sound of ocean waves. “Don’t you think you’d better let me through?”
The guards looked at each other, confused.
Like a flying arrow, a small dark blur darted toward the guards. It was the swallow! It pecked at their helmets, twittering and flapping. Pinmei gave a small shriek of surprise, but the sound was lost as the guards yelped and clattered, waving their arms like crabs about to be dropped in a pot.
Lady Meng did not hesitate. With a quick command, BaiMa jumped through the gates and galloped into the Inner City.
CHAPTER
22
Yishan’s laughter echoed across the empty courtyard. Pinmei craned her neck to see if the guards would follow them, but all she
saw was a mist of snow. Perhaps the guards would think they were a dream.
When they passed a second courtyard, BaiMa slowed and Lady Meng looked up into the sky. Yishan and Pinmei followed her gaze until they finally saw what she was looking for. A small black dot circled above them.
“Thank you,” Lady Meng said to the swallow. “Now the king, please.”
The swallow led them to another empty courtyard, then over an arched stone bridge of the same color as the frozen water beneath. BaiMa’s steps made a hollow, mournful echo, and when the swallow stopped in front of a red carved door, they heard the unmistakable sound of weeping. Lady Meng hesitated, but pushed open the door.
They were in the throne room. Even though they were out of the wind, the room did not feel much warmer, and Pinmei was surprised by its starkness. The row of windows cast a cold white light, making everything within look like a shadow puppet. A tearful queen was being led out of the room by frozen-faced women, and the king sat stiffly on his throne, his eyes fixed on a paper clutched in his hands.
But the creaking of the door forced the king to look up, and when he saw the visitors, his face lit with surprised recognition, melting his stiffness.
“MengHai!” the king said, standing and reaching to pull Lady Meng up from her low bow. “What are you doing here?”
“KaiJae,” Lady Meng said, grasping his arms in greeting. She glanced at the floating silk swirls of the departing women. “Why is the queen upset?”
“We just received some bad news. The emperor has conscripted the men of a village north of here and we”—the king hesitated and glanced around warily—“and we… have friends there.”
Those must be some close friends, Pinmei thought. She felt she shouldn’t be listening, but how else would they know when to ask about the dragon’s pearl? She bit her lip and glanced over at Yishan. He, like her, had kneeled in a bowing position. He shrugged at her. They were unnoticed and forgotten, but this was not the time to interrupt.
“But it matters not,” the king continued, shaking his head as if to clear it. His face took on an expression of alarm. “You must not be here. MengHai, you must leave right away!”
“Leave?” Lady Meng said. “I cannot leave until I know what happened to Wan. Tell me, how did he die?”
“He is dead?” the king gasped. “I thought the emperor took him to work on the Vast Wall…”
“The Vast Wall?” It was Lady Meng’s turn to gasp. “Why was Wan working on the wall?”
“You did not get my message?” the king said.
Lady Meng shook her head. The king looked around again at the room, empty of all except them, and beckoned her closer. “Your husband was right about that meeting of kings. He said the Tiger King could not be trusted and insisted on going in my place,” the king said in a fierce whisper. “The meeting was a trap. All the other kings were killed. The Tiger King made all his men the new kings, killed the old emperor, and then made himself the new emperor—the ruler of all.”
“But what of Wan?” Lady Meng pressed.
“Wan was not killed,” the king said. “For some reason, when he reached Wan, the Tiger King dropped his sword, grabbed your husband by the collar, and ripped his shirt. Then the Tiger King held a piece of the shirt in his hands, laughed, threw Wan to the ground, and told his men to take him away.”
“Ripped his shirt,” Lady Meng whispered, and Pinmei thought about the dragon shirt Lady Meng had sewn. It had failed to protect her husband.
“And then, not long after, he became invincible,” the king said, scowling. “The Tiger King had always been a fierce warrior, but suddenly swords bounced off him and he could toss trees.”
“And boys,” Yishan added grimly to Pinmei. She grimaced. Was Amah with this emperor now, a man who didn’t sound like a man at all? Pinmei swallowed and pressed her hand over Amah’s bracelet as if she were hiding it.
“Now that he is emperor, the mountains bleed red where he has whipped them to make room for his Vast Wall,” the king continued, either not hearing Yishan or ignoring him. “And men like your husband toil for him there night and day.”
“Then I must go to the Vast Wall,” Lady Meng said without hesitation. “I will find him, alive or dead.”
“Wherever you go,” the king said, “you and your friends must go immediately. It is not safe here, MengHai.”
“But we just got here,” Yishan said, lifting his head with indignation. Pinmei frowned in agreement. They still needed to ask about the dragon’s pearl!
The king looked directly at them for the first time, and Pinmei’s protests were temporarily forgotten in her surprise. The king’s face was white and gaunt, and the deep shadows of his eyes looked as if they had been painted with smoke. He looked more like a ghost than a king.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “This is no place for children or friends. The emperor…”
The door to the throne room burst open, and with a biting gust of cold air, a servant flew to stand before the king.
“The emperor is here!” the servant girl gasped.
CHAPTER
23
“How close?” the king demanded.
“Just arrived at the gate,” the servant girl said, breathing heavily. “Probably coming through the first courtyard now.”
“Quickly, Yanna,” the king said to the girl. “Take Lady Meng and these children to the Hall of Distant Clouds before the emperor or his men see them. They are friends and they must stay out of sight until after…”
Yanna, who did not seem much older than Pinmei, nodded with the shrewdness of an adult. Pinmei glanced back and forth between the King and Yanna, feeling like a mouse lost in the snow. But when the others rose in unison, she followed quickly, and the king led them to a door at the back of the room.
“Bring them through the Long Walkway; the emperor will take the other path,” the king said to the girl. He turned to Lady Meng and the children. “Yanna will see that you are comfortable and well taken care of. I will send word when it is safe for you to leave. Go quickly.”
“And Yanna,” the king called as they turned to leave, “make sure you warn them about the western side of the walkway.”
She nodded and pushed them through the doorway. They rushed through the halls of the palace, Lady Meng’s robes flowing behind her like silken water, to another door. Then, to Pinmei’s surprise, Yanna led them outside to a covered, meandering corridor. In warm weather, the richly decorated pathway was probably a delightful way to take a relaxed stroll through the garden. But now, with the biting wind and the endless landscape of white, the walkway’s bends and length were more of an annoyance, and the fleeing group kept slipping on its curves.
Pinmei’s thoughts twisted and turned like their running steps. The emperor was here? If the emperor was here… was Amah here too?
“What did the king mean when he said to warn us about the walkway?” Yishan said, huffing to keep up with Yanna’s fast pace. “Something about the western side?”
Yanna slowed and looked behind them, the covered pathway stretching beyond them like a dragon’s backbone.
“I think we’re far enough away now,” she said, stopping. “And you probably should know as soon as possible because it’s important.”
Lady Meng gave a grateful sigh, glad to rest, but Pinmei and Yishan looked at Yanna curiously.
“We are on the Long Walkway,” Yanna said, speaking as if they were very young children. “This walkway divides the palace garden in half—in kind of a twisty way, of course—but still, in two.”
“I think that’s pretty obvious,” Yishan said. Even though he was breathing heavily, his mocking tone was still clear. Pinmei nudged him.
“This is the eastern side,” Yanna said, ignoring Yishan and motioning toward the left. She waved to her right. “That is the western side.”
Pinmei looked back and forth at both sides of the walkway. There did not seem to be a big difference between the two sides.<
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“So?” Yishan said.
“While the emperor is here, you are never to go on the western side of the Long Walkway,” Yanna said, raising her voice for emphasis. “You must never, ever cross the walkway to the western side.”
“Why?” Yishan asked. “What happens if we do?”
“If you do, you’re dead!” Yanna snorted. “The emperor declared he’d kill anyone and their family if they were found on the western side while he’s here. So don’t cross the walkway. Do you understand?”
Pinmei looked again at the western side of the walkway. It was blanketed with thick snow, iced over, and glittering like a diamond, but she still did not see anything unusual about it.
“No, I don’t understand,” Lady Meng said, her lovely face frowning in confusion. “The western side, the eastern side? Why is it important?”
“It’s important to the emperor,” Yanna said, turning to lead them farther. “And, while he’s here, that’s all that matters.”
CHAPTER
24
Ignoring Yishan’s further questions, Yanna hurried them onward, though not as quickly as before. However, Pinmei’s thoughts continued to race. Eastern side, western side? Why? Did it have anything to do with Amah? If Amah was here, could they find her? Pinmei gazed upward, trying to calm herself.
It was then that she noticed the beams and ceiling of the corridor were painted with hundreds of scenes from different stories. The Old Man of the Moon with his bag of red threads, the Spirit of the Mountain holding up the moon as only he could… Pinmei recognized them all. Yanna noticed her gaze.
“The Long Walkway is supposed to show a picture from every important legend,” she said. “They say a new painting appears right before a story of greatness is about to be told.”
“I wonder what kind of magic can do that,” Lady Meng said, looking up in appreciation.