When the Sea Turned to Silver

by Grace Lin

  “You’re right!” Yishan said. “That must be where the Luminous ­Stone—­whatever it ­is—­must be! Let’s go there next!”

  “But…” Pinmei faltered, “Sea Bottom is just part of Amah’s stories. Could we really go… How could we get there?”

  Lady Meng looked up. “I know how,” she said quietly.

  CHAPTER

  45

  The snake’s eyes, like deep dark pinpricks, gazed at the Black Tortoise. It stretched toward the tortoise as if longing to embrace it.

  The tortoise snapped, and the snake arched back, chastised.

  Go to the Sea King, the tortoise ordered, and tell him I need help.

  The snake nodded, its tongue flicking with eagerness. Without a sound, it turned and began to slither away with surprising speed.

  The tortoise fixed his gaze upon it, cherishing the only relief in that brilliant landscape. He watched the black snake crawl and glide until it became a thin silk thread in the distance and disappeared.

  CHAPTER

  46

  “We need to wait for BaiMa,” Lady Meng said.

  They were outside the city gates, safe from view. They had left the House of Wu quickly, Haiyi urging everything from dumplings to furs on them. “I don’t think my masters will need them anymore,” Haiyi had said with a small, mischievous smile. Instead, Lady Meng had traded her fine clothes for the coarse garb of the servant herself, and Pinmei and Yishan had thrown various robes and cloaks over their colorful clothing. Leaving separately, they had attracted little attention, and the gates had been easy to exit, just as Haiyi had predicted.

  “The horse?” Yishan asked. “But he was put in the palace stable. Surely he couldn’t…”

  But before Yishan could continue, Lady Meng put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. It was a clear, lilting noise, like the sound of a bamboo flute.

  In answer came the high whinny of a horse. BaiMa, as if he had been waiting, galloped toward them from around the bend in the wall. When he reached them, he snorted as if laughing.

  “I asked Yanna to let him out of the city gates before I left,” Lady Meng said, smiling at their astonishment.

  Yishan flung off the borrowed gray cloak and laughed. Pinmei smiled too. Without thinking, she reached to rub the bracelet that was no longer there. Lady Meng saw her.

  “I’m sorry you gave away your bracelet,” Lady Meng said. “If I had my jewelry here, I could give you many ­more—­gold as well as jade.”

  Pinmei gave Lady Meng a small smile, the emptiness on her wrist heavier than any gold.

  “Jade and gold?” scoffed Yishan. “Who needs that?”

  And with a flourish, he pulled a thread out of his fraying sleeve and tied it around Pinmei’s wrist. “I present to you this magnificent bracelet of thread,” he said in a playful tone as he bowed. “Wear it with pride, for it is priceless!”

  Pinmei laughed. “Stop teasing me,” she said, but the red string did look nice, and her wrist somehow felt less bare. Despite his joking manner, Pinmei knew Yishan had given it to her in kindness, and it made her feel as if she were drinking a warm cup of tea. She smiled.

  Lady Meng looked at them wistfully.

  “I wish I had had a bracelet like that to give to my husband,” she said sadly.

  Yishan turned to Lady Meng and bowed his head. “I wish I could have given him one,” he said.

  Pinmei watched the two of them, aware something was being said she did not understand. But before she could say anything, Lady Meng raised her head and said, “Shall we be off, then?”

  They climbed onto BaiMa’s back, and Lady Meng urged the horse forward.

  “Aren’t we going to the road?” Pinmei asked as BaiMa trotted onto unmarked snow.

  “We don’t need it,” Lady Meng said, clicking at BaiMa to start him galloping. “We’re going to the sea.”

  CHAPTER

  47

  BaiMa sliced through the air, the wind making Pinmei’s braid a stroke of black ink on the paper white of the sky. Time and distance melted together in a blur of silver, and when they stopped, she felt as if they had arrived in another world. For before them, glittering with the cold, hard, sharp sparkle of a diamond, was the sea.

  “It’s frozen,” Pinmei whispered. “The sea is frozen.”

  They stood for a moment in awe.

  “This is not right,” Yishan said. “Something is wrong. For the sea to freeze…”

  But he stopped, for Lady Meng had slid off the horse. “We will part here,” she said to them.

  “You’re leaving us?” Pinmei gasped.

  “I am glad to have spent this time with you both,” she said. “But I must find my husband.”

  “But then how will we…” Pinmei stopped, embarrassed by her selfishness.

  Lady Meng smiled at her and looked at Yishan. “I know,” she said, “how capable you are.” She opened her hand and held it toward him.

  Yishan reached deep into his sleeve and fished out his handkerchief, his chopsticks, and, finally, the dark brown mussel. It was tightly closed, with only the smallest indentation as evidence that it had been struck by the arrow. Yishan handed the mussel to Lady Meng.

  Lady Meng turned toward the silent sea. The arched frozen waves stretched toward her like yearning arms and, for a long moment, she gazed at them. Then she threw the mussel. As it bounced, it made a clinking noise like a small bell, then became a dark dot rolling in the distance.

  “Just follow it,” Lady Meng said, looking at them. “BaiMa will know the rest.”

  “You’re not going to take BaiMa?” Pinmei asked.

  “No, you’ll need him,” Lady Meng said, “and I will not. And considering where I am going, he would only draw unnecessary attention to me.”

  Pinmei tried to picture Lady Meng, refined and graceful, among the horrors of the Vast Wall and found herself shuddering. Lady Meng looked at her with affection.

  “Do not worry for me, Pinmei,” she said. “I must follow my path.”

  Pinmei nodded. “I wish I could be as brave as you,” she said in admiration.

  “It is not bravery, Pinmei,” Lady Meng said, reaching up to touch her cheek. “For I am not afraid. With my husband’s death, I have nothing left to fear. You are the bravest of all of us, truly.”

  Lady Meng grasped both of their hands in hers. “Good journey, my young friends,” she said. “If one of the greatest joys is encountering a friend far from home, making a friend must be as well.

  “Now go,” Lady Meng said, giving BaiMa a slap. The horse reared up, and Pinmei clung to Yishan, her braid whipping into the air. Then BaiMa leaped over the frozen waves onto the silver sea of ice.

  CHAPTER

  48

  “There it is,” Yishan said, pointing to the rolling mussel. It was quite a distance ahead of them, but they were still able to see it in the vast expanse of stillness and ice. But Yishan’s direction was not needed, for BaiMa was already galloping toward the moving speck. Pinmei marveled at how he did not slip; his hooves burned into the waves of ice, and he ran as easily as if he were on a dirt road.

  As BaiMa ran, the ice began to darken in color, white to gray, gray to dark gray, and when Pinmei raised her head, she saw a strange land before ­them—­a rippling black surface dotted with feathery white flowers. But then the rolling mussel hopped into the air and splashed into the blackness. The bitter wind flew into Pinmei’s open mouth. The black ground was water! The white flowers were pieces of frost! The ice was thinning!

  Crack! The ice shattered under BaiMa’s hooves, and Pinmei gasped as freezing water sprayed her, its coldness more startling than a slap. BaiMa reared, jumped onto thicker ice, and continued running.

  “Are we going…” Pinmei panted. “Are we going to go…?”

  Her words were lost in the wind, but Yishan turned his head to her. “Look at BaiMa!” he said.

  Pinmei looked. Was BaiMa melting? Where the water had splashed him, his coat was washing away, leaving… scale
s? Crack! BaiMa’s hooves broke through the ice again, and a large wave of water splashed over them. Again, ­Pinmei struggled to catch her breath, and this time the shock of the water felt as if her whole body had been struck.

  But when she was finally able to think again, she gave an even greater gasp. For the water that had swept over BaiMa had washed away all his hair. His entire body was covered with luminous scales, and two horns had sprouted from his head. BaiMa opened his mouth and, instead of nickering, gave a loud roar that echoed across the ice.

  “He’s a longma!” Pinmei yelled so she could be heard above the sounds of the wind and the clopping hooves. “BaiMa’s a dragon horse!”

  Yishan nodded but instead of saying anything, he cocked his head forward. Pinmei gaped. The dark water was right in front of them, like the yawning mouth of a monster.

  “We’re going in,” Yishan yelled back. “Hold tight!”

  His last words were unnecessary. Pinmei clung to ­Yishan as if already drowning, her eyes as large as moons. BaiMa gave another roar, one so thunderous that the ice cracked behind them. He made a great leap, the force of the wind making Pinmei swallow her scream, and they all plunged into the blackness of the water.

  CHAPTER

  49

  “Stonecutter!” the guard grunted. He let a bag drop to the floor, and it hit with the ringing sound of an iron bell. “These are for you!”

  “Are they…” the stonecutter said, peering at the black bricks at the guard’s feet, “stones?”

  A second guard stomped in. He was older, and judging by the hostile glare he gave the prisoners, more brutish. “An old woman and a skeleton,” he said, looking at them as if they were rice maggots. “They should just be executed and save us the trouble.”

  The stonecutter shrugged at Amah. Apparently, not all the soldiers valued her as the Storyteller.

  The guard took a scroll of paper from his waistband and tossed it to the stonecutter.

  “Those are the emperor’s great deeds,” he said as the stonecutter crawled on his hands and knees to retrieve the scroll. “Each must be carved in stone.”

  “The emperor’s great deeds?” the stonecutter said. His eyes widened. “There are thousands!”

  “We will bring you more stones when these are finished,” the first guard said. He gave the stonecutter a packet that, when opened, contained stonecutting tools, and set down his lantern. Without another word, the guards marched away. The dungeon door clanked shut, leaving the prisoners staring at the pile of uncut stones in the flickering light.

  “I suppose this is the use the Tiger King had in mind for me,” the stonecutter said. “Why do you think he wishes this?”

  “The emperor is not known for his humility,” Amah said, “and great deeds carved in stone do have much power.”

  “Do they?” the stonecutter said, his eyes twinkling at Amah. “And is there a story about it?”

  Amah had to smile at the stonecutter’s impish grin. “There is,” Amah said, “and I suppose I can tell it to you.”

  My father told me that when his ­grandfather was a boy, it was not impossible for one to see a dragon or even a longma. While it would still be considered an extraordinary sight, people could believe it ­possible—­unlike now, when most would think you were a liar or crazy.

  For those were the days when beasts of the heavens and seas were still allowed to be seen by mortal eyes. That changed when the first king of the City of Bright Moonlight stopped the floods of his city.

  Stopping the floods of the city seemed an impossible task. The first king realized that, instead of building dams, he must build waterways to redirect the river. But the work this required was enormous.

  “I will supervise the men,” the king’s father said. “You have other things you must attend to.”

  With misgivings, the king allowed his father to oversee the project, for it was true that he had many other things to do. However, his misgivings proved correct, because his father was callous and cruel to the workers, forcing them to labor under harsh conditions from morning to night. When the king heard of this, he ordered his father to treat the workers better, but his father only argued.

  “Do you want to stop the floods?” his father retorted. “We won’t finish if the men are not worked so!”

  The king saw his father was right, but he could not bear the sufferings of his people. Luckily, the Old Man of the Moon took pity on the young king and went to the Jade Emperor in the heavens and the Dragon King of the Sea on his behalf. Because of the Old Man’s appeals, the dragon HuangLong was sent from the sky and the tortoise Bauxi (a distant cousin to the Black Tortoise of Winter) was sent from the sea to help the king.

  Both creatures swore to stay on earth until the project was complete. And they were both much needed. The tortoise, with his incredible strength, would hold back the water while the dragon dredged the land. They worked tirelessly alongside the men, and the honor they brought to the city was relished by all, especially the king’s father.

  “The tortoise and the dragon are now my servants,” the king’s father said to him. “What will they do when the irrigation is complete?”

  “They will leave,” the king said.

  “You must not let them!” the king’s father said. “With them I am very powerful! I can even rival the power of the emperor himself!”

  “They vowed to stay until the project is finished,” the king said. “I cannot make them stay longer.”

  Then he left, missing the gleam in his father’s eyes.

  Over nine years later, the irrigation was completed. It was a grand success! The river flowed out to the land, gentle and docile, and the great floods were eased. But before the beasts could sit to rest, the king’s father approached them.

  “There is one last part of the project I need your help with,” he said.

  “Of course,” the unsuspecting beasts replied.

  “There is a grand monument I had made,” the father said, leading them to a massive stone placard. It was as tall as a pine tree and covered with carved words. “I would like to have it carried to the river.”

  The placard was too heavy to lift, so the men had to dig a hole and lower it onto the tortoise’s back. The ­good-­natured tortoise shuffled into the pit, ­taking for granted that his immense strength could carry it out. However, as soon as the tablet was laid on his back, Bauxi felt himself weighed deeper and deeper into the ground. He could not move! He was trapped.

  “What have you done?” HuangLong said, looking at the king’s father with suspicious eyes.

  “That plaque lists all the great accomplishments of the world,” the father said, a poorly hidden look of gloating in his eyes, “so of course you cannot carry it! And if you cannot carry it to the river, then the project is not complete and you both must stay here on earth!”

  Bauxi sputtered and spat, but he was helpless. In frustration, he gave a great yowl, a protesting noise so full of resentment and anger the river water leaped in surprise. With a shudder, he turned into stone!

  HuangLong turned to the king’s father. “Bauxi has kept the oath,” he said. “He will now never leave earth.”

  “And you?” the king’s father asked.

  “I too will keep the oath,” HuangLong said. “But you will never benefit from it. From here on, I shall be invisible, and no mortal shall ever see me again.”

  And without another word, the dragon disappeared. The king’s father looked around, aghast, but only the lifeless stone Bauxi, held down by the monument as if pinned by a needle, remained.

  “Ah,” the stonecutter said. “Tricking the beasts of heaven and sea! The king’s father was crafty.”

  “Yes,” Amah said. “But his trickery caused a great loss to all. For when the Jade Emperor heard what had happened, he was quite angry. He decreed that all beasts of the heavens would therefore no longer be seen by mortals.”

  “Which is why we do not see them today,” the stonecutter said. He fingered the stones. �
�But why have me carve these? They are not stones for a monument. This is very common stone, to be placed someplace ­humble—­like a country road or a wall.”

  “A wall?” Amah said, sitting up abruptly. She stared at the hill of stones, studying them.

  “Ha!” the stonecutter said with a snort. “I suppose an entire wall of great accomplishments would be a fine cage for another poor tortoise!”

  “Yes,” Amah said, her eyes still on the stones. “It would.”

  CHAPTER

  50

  Pinmei was afraid to open her eyes. The shock of the cold water had been overwhelming, and she wasn’t sure how long she had been lost in blackness. But now she felt strangely warm, as warm as if she had been dipped in a bath. The fabric of Yishan’s shirt was still clenched in her fingers, and she swayed with the gentle motion of BaiMa’s walking. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

  Pinmei could not believe what she saw. It was early dusk, the deepening sky just beginning to fill with ­twinkling stars. BaiMa, still a dragon horse, his mane and mustache floating like the tentacles of a squid, walked on a road of white sand. The dark mussel was still rolling before them. The sand also twinkled in the light of the glowing lanterns that hung from red trees that lined the road. Red trees? Pinmei rubbed her eyes. They weren’t trees! They were corals! And the glowing ­lanterns were jellyfish! She looked above again at the sky. The twinkling stars were really tiny swimming fish!

  “Are we…” Pinmei gulped. “Are we at Sea Bottom?”

  “Good, you’re awake,” Yishan said. “We’re almost there.”

  Yishan motioned with his hand. In front of them was a field of waving sea grasses dotted with chrysanthemum flower anemones, but beyond that there was a silver glow in the darkening sky, as if the moon were rising.

  “We’re almost where?” Pinmei said.

  “The Crystal Palace, silly!” said Yishan. In their descent, her braid had been flung over his shoulder; he now pulled it with a teasing tug. “Where else?”