“A frog prince? Are you waiting for a kiss?”
“A kiss? No. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Sorry. It’s a famous story where I’m from.”
“Well, please keep your story to your world. As for me, I cannot return home until I drink this lake dry and eat all the fish, among other things. It has been many years and it will be many more until I’m done. Sometimes it makes me short-tempered.”
“Oh, I wish I could help,” said Young-hee. “But I don’t think I could drink much of that lake. It’s very big.”
The frog looked at her funnily. “It was nice of you to offer. One day, perhaps you can help me. But not today. I thank you and your brother for your company.” And with that, the frog gave a big hop and dove into the water.
“Froggy’s gone,” said Bum, disappointed.
Young-hee wasn’t sure of what to make of that conversation, but reminded herself of the need to be respectful to all of Strange Land’s creatures. For all she knew, the next mouse she met could be a princess. Or a pile of wood could be a wizard.
She looked at the sky and wondered what time it was. Or if Strange Land had time. Her last visit had lasted seven or eight hours, but it always looked like early evening. No telling how long days last here, she thought. We’d better get moving. “Come on, Bum. Take my hand. I want to show you something.”
Bum complied, and she led him back into the forest. The large jureum trees were disorienting, but she kept Haechi Hill on her left and tried to retrace her steps, aiming for Jiha and Cheonha. But when they emerged from the forest, the goblin market lay ahead. Young-hee thought about going back to talk to the jangseung, but decided it was easier to go straight into the market. She had a plan—buy some food and things, then go exploring. She could meet Jiha and Cheonha after, maybe ask for advice about places to go.
“Let’s go,” Young-hee said. A few other people were walking to the market, too—a long, elegant creature that looked like an elf; a bent, witch-looking woman; three beautiful, child-like women dressed in forest greens and browns, giggling and gossiping. They all ignored her, thankfully. At least four times Bum almost ran off in one direction or another, suddenly captivated—by a strange flower, a big rock that needed climbing, something high in the trees. She was determined that nothing would bite or hop off with—or, heaven forbid, eat—her brother, so she held tight to his hand.
“Did you see that big froggy?” he asked.
“Yes, Bum, I was there.”
“Wasn’t he awesome?”
“Yeah, he was pretty cool. Everything here is pretty cool.”
“Did you see that big orange flower, the one that was walking?”
“Uh, no. Are you sure it was walking?”
“Uh-huh. I told you to look, but you weren’t listening.”
“Sorry, Bum.” She did feel a bit guilty about that, actually. There was so much to see, but she wanted to make sure Bum was safe and under control. The market hubbub grew with each step closer.
“And did you see the doggy?”
“Huh? Do you mean Gangjee? He’s right here in my pocket.”
“No, the little brown doggy, playing in the long grass near froggy’s pond.”
Young-hee didn’t like the sound of that. She hadn’t noticed any dog. Did fairytales have dogs? But there are plenty of wolves, like in Red Riding Hood or The Three Little Pigs. Or maybe wolves were just in Western fairytales?
“We’re almost at the market, Bum. See?” She pointed at the stalls. “Now, Bum, this is important,” she said, holding him lightly by the shoulders and looking seriously into his eyes. “You need to stay with me, okay? We’re going to the market, just like home. And we’re going to meet strange-looking people. Or creatures. Or something.” Bum looked at her dumbly. “Anyhow, some are nice, but some can be a little scary. Don’t get frightened or weirded out. Stay with me and we’ll be okay, I promise. Right?”
“Okay,” he intoned, only half-looking at her. So far, nothing seemed to have fazed Bum at all. He just took it all in, matter-of-fact, like it was as normal as a refrigerator or a roll of gimbap.
Young-hee feared he wasn’t paying attention, so she pushed the point. “Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
It would have to do. “Good. Then let’s go.”
The market enveloped them with noise and activity. Young-hee wasn’t as overwhelmed as the first time and managed to take it all in better. What now struck her were the hanbok most of the creatures were wearing—many were white and baggy, like in TV dramas and traditional paintings, but others were brilliantly colored or made in exotic fabrics and fashions.
Most of the merchants in the goblin market were, unsurprisingly, goblins—squat, gray-skinned dokkaebi, with their gnarled, googly eyes—smelling of ashes. They were creatures of the fireplace, she had read on one trip to the library, and she even saw one handling hot coals with its bare hands. A large, jowly creature with three horns, shaggy hair, and hands the size of melons sat in his stall, polishing a huge array of copper, silver, and other metal pots. Past him—it?—four small, frail-looking women, like the one Young-hee had seen walking to the market, ran a stall for maps, beautifully drawn on heavy paper. Ignoring potential customers, they puffed on long pipes, gossiped, and pushed small stones on a game board. An old, skinny man with drooping skin and the longest pipe Young-hee had ever seen stood to one side. “Unlearning!” he called in a sing-song vibrato. “Give me the knowledge and thoughts you no longer need! Top coin for top ideas!” In another stall, was the most beautiful ogre ever—or the ugliest fairy—with long black hair in a bun, over a lumpy but graceful face. She wore a huge, brilliant hanbok, with a long, crimson jeogori jacket tied with a ribbon of beautifully stylized otgoreum. She sat around a huge stone wheel, grinding beans in colors both familiar and bizarre.
Young-hee checked to make sure that Bum wasn’t scared, but the little brat, seemingly oblivious to the oddness all around him, just swiveled his head this way and that, enjoying the spectacle. “No, Bum, don’t touch,” she said gently, as a grubby hand reached for a cluster of fancy carved sticks. A glaring, grumpy-looking dokkaebi with extra-stubby fingers and large knuckles seemed almost disappointed when Young-hee and Bum passed safely without touching his merchandise.
Just as Young-hee was thinking they would need food and drink, a voice called from one shop. “You again! What evil is Ms. Young-hee bringing to our market now?” roared a large man with huge, burning white eyes and white dots covering his fierce, red face. Young-hee was sure she had never met him before. Leaning forward, he knocked over a couple of his stall’s wooden carvings. “It’s been so long. Who is your friend? Not a golem, I see.” Neither dokkaebi nor ogre, the exceptionally strange man squinted at Bum. “Hmm, another human. Safe, then.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think…” Then, she noticed the man’s giant, chalky hands and roly-poly body, as well as the stall full of wooden lamps and carvings. “Grandma Dol, is that you?”
“Of course,” said the man. He reached behind his head and with an uncomfortable stretching and yanking, pulled off his red, big-eyed face. Underneath, there was the friendly, lumpy face of Grandma Dol, holding a bright red piece of wood painted with white dots and carved into a fierce face.
“Uh, what happened to Boonae?” asked Young-hee.
“Boonae is my main partner, but not my only mask. Mokjung, here is good for driving away evil spirits. But he’s a bit angry. My apologies if he frightened you.”
“Have you had a lot of evil spirits around here?”
“Many disquieting, odd things are afoot,” said the old stone. “I don’t like it.” She looked down at Bum. “But listen to me, worrying, as always. That’s what happens when I wear Mokjung too much. So what brings you back to our goblin market?”
“Just getting some supplies. I’m here with my little brother. Bum, say ‘hi’ to Grandma Dol.”
“Hi there,” said Bum. “I like your ma
sk. Can I try it?”
“Greetings, young brother. I’m glad you like Mokjung, but save masks for the grown-ups. Keep your true face for as long as you can.”
“Okay,” said Bum, dutifully.
“Granny, we’d really like some basic supplies—rice cakes and such. Are there shops you’d recommend? I don’t know the rules and don’t want to get into trouble.”
“Smart girl,” said Grandma Dol. “Most of the dokkaebi are more trouble than they are worth. But straight down this aisle at the second right, is Lee Chul, who makes excellent foods—cheap and long lasting—and never adds magicks unless you ask. Tell him I sent you, and he’ll give you a fair deal.”
“Oh, thank you. Is Mr. Lee a stone like you?”
“Heavens no,” laughed Grandma Dol. “But he was once a very impressive tree stump. Don’t tell him I told you, though.”
“I won’t,” laughed Young-hee. “Thanks so much.”
“I’m pleased to help. By the way … could I interest you in a nice wooden lamp? Excellent workmanship with the delicate plum-fiber paper walls. Any candle placed in here will burn twice as bright and never go out, even in a hurricane. For you, just ten jungbo.”
“It is lovely, but I need to save my money for the food. If some is left, I’ll come back,” she said. She was trying to be nice, but since goods from the Strange Land couldn’t survive in the real world, she didn’t want to waste her money. Or hair bands.
“Hey, where are you going, boy?” Grandma Dol yelled. Bum had wandered into the stall and was making a grab for a small metal globe. “Don’t touch things that don’t belong to you,” she said, reaching to gently stop him.
“Thanks. He’s fast like that,’ Young-hee said. They said their goodbyes and Young-hee, Bum firmly in hand again, headed for Lee Chul’s stall. With so many food stalls run by untrustworthy dokkaebi, she was glad of the old stone’s advice. She’d just buy some food and start exploring Strange Land. Hopefully, somewhere calmer. The market seemed busier and busier the deeper she went, with hordes of people and creatures surging chaotically like water down rapids. But with a bit of bumping and jostling, she found Lee’s shop.
Lee was a sinewy man, lean from a lifetime of work—totally unlike a tree stump, thought Young-hee—and pleasant, if totally fixated on business. He sold them kaypal rice cakes he promised would stay fresh even on a long journey. Despite Bum’s grabbing, Lee was not the sort to dole out free samples. He was startled but not shocked or angry when Young-hee admitted she didn’t have jungbo—or tongbo or jeongpye or other local currency. The hair bands she offered were more often the currency of witches and magicians, he said, but since he dealt with magic folk in his travels, he’d make a deal for half her hair bands. He even threw in a few copper tongbo coins and a cloth pouch for the rice cakes in exchange for her brightest scrunchies. The food would last the day, so Young-hee was pleased with the trade.
As soon as they started walking, Bum started whining about food. Fumbling with the drawstrings on the rice cake-filled pouch, Young-hee got bumped hard by people and creatures surging the other way, all carrying boxes and bags.
Stepping back to avoid the throng, Young-hee almost lost her balance and stumbled into a stall. She automatically said “sorry” and gave a little bow. The merchant, smoking a large hookah pipe that filled the air with fruit-scented smoke, leaned across the counter. He was tall and thin, elegant and olive-skinned, with a neat goatee and mustache, and dark, soft hair that fell lazily into his eyes. A man, but definitely not Korean. “Might I interest you in something, young lady?” he asked. “I have a wide selection of beautiful cloths and garments from far off realms, quite unlike anything else at this market.”
Indeed, his shop was full of luxurious linens and cottons, as fine as silk. Large bolts of cloth continually shifted color, like a spray of water in sunlight. Scarves and robes looked softer than a whisper, and cloaks and coats looked as light as air. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bump your stall,” she said.
“Think nothing of it. But perhaps your accident is my good fortune. I have a thousand and one different items—certainly something you could use.”
She looked closely. “You’re a real person. Not a stone or a tree stump or anything like that.”
“Of course.”
“But you’re not Korean,” Young-hee said, more bluntly than she intended.
“Indeed, I’m not,” he said, with the lazy calm of someone who has this discussion often. He swept his hand toward the market, “Like many here.”
Young-hee couldn’t tell if he was annoyed. “Right. I mean, no. You’re different from them.”
“And how am I different? I am a merchant like so many others, and I have been trading across this realm for a long time.” He sucked on his hookah lazily and blew sweet, apple-scented smoke, but kept his eyes firmly on her.
“But you aren’t from this realm?”
“That is true.”
“And you aren’t Korean.”
“Also true.”
“So … are you from the real world? From Earth, I mean.”
“There are no real worlds, young one. All our worlds, zamin and dastan alike, are but shadows of the truth. But yes, I was born in the world of humans and science. Son of the bear, as they say.”
“My name is Young-hee. I’m from Korea. But I’m not sure where I am or how I got here.”
“Hello, Young-hee. That sounds like the wisest of paths. Far too many people stick to roads they know, but never go anywhere. I am Bassam Attar, of Neishapour, a fellow traveler and a trader.”
“Hello, Mr. Attar,” said Young-hee, bowing politely. She was getting used to not understanding all that was said in Strange Land, but was happy to find fellow outsider. “I’m sorry if my questions were rude. I was told that there were no other humans here.”
“We are few, but we are here.”
“So, Mr. Attar, if you’re a traveler and trader, does that mean you know how to come and go between this place and the real world?”
“Call me Bassam, please. I have lived too long to cling to ceremony; plus, it is good to be friendly. Sadly, the answer is, no. I came long ago, and have never been able to leave. Back then, Korea went by a different name, but was famous among traders throughout Khorasan and the Abbasid Caliphate for its gold and treasures.”
“Really?” said Young-hee skeptically. “The Korea I know is all ugly concrete and smog.”
“I do not know about those things, but I think you mean cities, right?”
“Yeah, Seoul is a huge city.”
“Cities are all like that, at least now. But in memory, they can become beautiful places, full of magic. When I was a young, I traveled through Khorasan seeking knowledge and enlightenment. However, I never found the peace I hoped for, so I searched further and further abroad. Eventually I took to trading along the way—at first just to finance my studies, but it turned out I was a much better trader than mystic. I grew wealthy and created a great name for my family. Across the many lands, I heard of Korea and its riches, and eventually came to see for myself and found a wonderful land.”
“I’ve traveled a lot, too. My parents are always moving. It never makes me feel peaceful, just annoyed and worried by everything.”
“I suspect it is different for a child. I was a young man, looking for understanding and mystery.”
“I’m not a child.”
“Yes, of course. I forget that few are as grown up as the young. My deepest apologies.”
“Thanks,” said Young-hee, not sure if Bassam was making fun of her. She thought it best to return the kind words. “At least you found out you are a really good trader. I have no idea what I’m good at.”
“Thank you, but this store is but a speck, just one small stall in a small market in a vast land.”
“So how did you come here?”
“Much like you, I do not know. As I was about to return home from my second trip to Korea, with a vast retinue and a caravan full of more treasures t
han I had ever dreamed of, I heard a most intriguing story: In a mysterious castle high in the northern reaches of the Gaema Highlands lived an incredibly wise and reclusive lord who had gathered more gold than the rest of Korea combined. Enough to rival the Middle Kingdom itself, maybe even ancient Babylon. I would like to say the tale stimulated my desire for knowledge, but the simple truth is, it fired my greed. So I commanded my caravan into the mountains to seek the strange castle. The trip was long and difficult, and one day, a great storm arose. It separated me from my caravan, my friends and soldiers, and my gold. After many days, when that storm calmed, I was in this world with no gold, no followers. I was just Bassam. Ever since, I have lived here, trading and living as best I can.”
“Don’t you miss your home and your family?”
Bassam took another long huff of his hookah, and his eyes grew sad. “I suppose I should say I do, but, no, not truly. It has been so very long, and the memories of people always fade. Instead, I live the most rare and extraordinary life, for days beyond counting, among creatures I thought were only from stories.”
“That sounds really amazing and really sad at the same time,” said Young-hee, wondering if she had begun to forget her father. “But if you’re from Korasa… uh, from far away, does that mean creatures from your stories are here, too? Or from other places?”
“If they are, I have never seen them. I did look, but this realm is vast and, after a lifetime of traveling, I am content with much simpler life here.”
“This world is simple to you? Wow, I think this is the most incredible place I could imagine. My other life is so boring and stupid. I want to meet more of the people here, the stones and guardians and whatever else they all are.”
“If I may be so bold as to give you some advice, Young-hee—even though you are an adult and clearly do not need it. Go home with your brother as soon as you can. This world is very old and not designed for mortals. There are many powerful spirits and forces in the hills, and many of them don’t get along. The ancient resent the old, the old fear the ancient, and few love humanity.”
Young-hee and the Pullocho Page 8