Young-hee and the Pullocho

by Mark James Russell

  “What are you scheming, sister?” asked Sanyeo.

  “Whatever do you mean, sister?” answered Gumiho.

  “In our hundreds of years together, I have seen you eat humans’ hearts, drink their blood, but never once did you help them. And now you have helped this human girl three times in one day—you sheltered her in our home, advised her, and ran off the Ghost Queen. I hope you are not planning to use this girl in the coming war. We are pledged to help no side.”

  “Do not worry sister,” said Gumiho, suppressing a grin, “I am on no one’s side.”

  Act III

  Young-hee wheezed as she pushed up the steep slope as fast as she could, but cold rain and wind froze her to the bone. Thunder boomed and echoed like colossal drums. Looking equal parts misery and exhaustion, Samjogo and Tiger sped on, so Young-hee refused to slow either. They had escaped the ghosts outside of the animal spirits’ hanok; but, now, something new was chasing them, something at least as terrible as the undead ghouls: the Lord of Storms himself.

  “I don’t think he has found us yet,” said Samjogo, “or he would be here already.”

  “Why isn’t that very comforting?” asked Young-hee, shivering.

  “For now he’s just trying to slow us, maybe blow us into the open.”

  At first, Tiger’s thick warm fur protected him from the rains, but eventually the constant downpour soaked him through, too, and his tail and ears fell with his spirits.

  “So, what is Nwaegongdo the Storm Lord like?” Young-hee asked.

  “Terrible,” said Tiger. “Very scary. Ya-oong.” A flash of lightning in the sky, much closer than before, and then a loud crackle, accented Tiger’s point.

  “Yes, terrible,” said Samjogo. “Nwaegongdo is a younger demon, who became Storm Lord after defeating the previous spirit of the sky. He’s fierce, with a demon’s face, bat wings, a serrated blade, and hammers that he carries with his feet.”

  “His feet? Does he have monkey toes or something?”

  “No, … well, I don’t know. That’s not the point. The point is…”

  “He’s terrible,” said Young-hee glumly.

  “Yeah.”

  Another cold wind froze their bones and deadened their fingers. “Ow!” shouted Young-hee, rubbing her forehead in pain as a hard, white ball bounced to the ground. “Hail? Really, hail? Jigyeowo!”

  Soon thousands of acorn-sized balls of ice pummeled down. The trees lessened the barrage, but hiding under them only slowed them more. Her bag held protectively over her head, Young-hee wasn’t sure which was worse, hill or hail. Samjogo shielded his head with his hyeopdo, but it didn’t help much. Another flash, with a huge, frizzy crack, followed almost instantly. “It’s closer,” Young-hee said.

  “He’s trying hard to find us,” said Samjogo, scanning the clouds.

  “After many flashes, the thunderbolt will fall,” said Tiger.

  “Indeed,” agreed Samjogo. “We should keep going.” So they set out again on the steep path as it wove through folds of rock, their eyes on the distant cliff-top building.

  After what seemed forever, they crested the rocky slope. Their destination was still far, but Young-hee was relieved that the way looked fairly flat. Soon, the burning in her legs cooled and she moved quickly again, determined not to get stuck in the countryside at night.

  But then—boom! A fat palm tree beside the path exploded in a bright yellow flash and a deafening roar. The explosion knocked them to the muddy ground.

  “Lightning,” explained Samjogo, his voice a muddled smear in Young-hee’s ringing ears. “Are you okay?”

  Young-hee nodded and struggled to stand. She saw Tiger furiously licking his fur, which was covered in tiny pieces of burnt wood and splinters. She realized she was, too.

  “We need to keep moving,” urged Samjogo.

  They moved almost at a jog, listening to the hypnotic rain. No one talked. Young-hee felt the ringing in her ears slowly fade. Every so often she extracted another splinter from her skin without breaking her stride. Samjogo kept his eyes on the sky.

  Young-hee noticed it become colder, then darker. She was fearfully contemplating a night spent in the drenched; freezing woods, when suddenly they stumbled on a large stone wall. The astronomer’s home.

  Up close it was a lot larger than it had seemed from the animal sisters’ home below. With huge walls of precisely fitting stones the size of small cars, it looked more like a European castle than anything she had seen before in Strange Land. Its huge wooden gate had no moongeori, and as Young-hee was wondering to get in, a slot slid opened, and a pair of eyes peered out.

  “Is that the bear daughter and her friends?” It was the voice of an older woman, but sharp and potent. A light suddenly cut through the evening murk, illuminating the three of them.

  “I’m the bear daughter, the human. My name is Young-hee. May we come in?”

  “Fascinating,” said the woman, sliding the slot shut.

  The rain redoubled, and wind howled, or Young-hee hoped it was wind, not a ghost or some other foul creature.

  With a series of clangs and thumps, a person-sized door in the huge gate opened. Inside looked warm and dry. “Come in, come in, before you catch your deaths,” said the woman. None of them needed to be asked twice.

  The hallway beyond the gate was huge—as wide as a Seoul road. Two lanterns lit the entrance surprisingly well, with a glow so steady it didn’t resemble flame at all. The giant hallway stretched as far as Young-hee could see, slowly sloping up into darkness. At least it’s shelter from the freezing rain, thought Young-hee shivering.

  “So,” said the woman, raising a small lantern, “a human, a tiger, and a … whatever you are, traveling some of this realm’s more remote fringes. All the lands under Heaven going crazy, but the stars tell me to expect you. Fascinating.”

  Young-hee assumed this was Namgoong Mirinae, but assuming often went awry in Strange Land. She wore a long, flowing dopo—a scholar’s robe—with a white collar and a fine yellow belt. Her hair was up in a complicated braid, with streaks of white as thick as scallions. Her face was lively with the kind of scowls gained by a lifetime of dealing with people who didn’t understand.

  “Thank you for letting us in,” said Young-hee. “It’s been pouring all day.”

  “Yes, hailing, too. Most unusual,” she said, looking them over. “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it. But, first, you should get dried off and warmed up.”

  Rather than take the wide hallway, the woman walked to a wooden platform and a complicated beamed structure nestled in an alcove in the stone. “Watch your step,” she said, mounting the platform.

  Once everyone followed, the woman grabbed a lever and gave it a tug. With a jerk, the platform rose like an elevator. Thick hemp ropes pulled it up the wall, although there was no sign of electricity or servants. “This was a war fortress, before I moved in,” she said matter-of-factly. “I made a few modifications.”

  After the platform clanked to a stop to the top of the wall, the woman led them through a short corridor to an immense room, as big as a banquet hall, that served as living quarters and workshop. Dominating the space was a gigantic series of thick iron circles and gears that took up nearly half the hall, swooping and arcing high overhead. If it was some kind of machine, Young-hee had no idea what its function might be.

  Only after coming to terms with the mysterious machine was Young-hee able to take in the rest of the hall. Clothes and all manner of personal things lay in a tight haphazard space by the entrance, while the rest of the hall was crammed with an endless array of odd gadgets and devices on wooden benches and work spaces. There were trinkets small enough to hold and large metal contraptions with complicated cogs and interlocking wheels. Stairs led into the gloomy rafters above the iron circles where stone walls gave way to the wooden roof, with its own platform full of large metal gadgets. It looks like a telescope, Young-hee thought. And everywhere were tables full of rulers, calipers, and glass beakers, along
with scrolls and papers covered in mysterious writings and numbers.

  “I couldn’t prepare properly, what with all the rain and clouds,” said the woman, rooting through a chest. “But the worst seems to be over. If it clears up and I can see some stars, I might be able to make a few predictions.” Finding a stack of towels, she threw them to her guests. Samjogo and Young-hee began drying themselves. Tiger shook vigorously, then began licking his fur.

  “So, are you Namgoong Mirinae, the astronomer?” asked Young-hee.

  “Who else would I be?” she responded, a little annoyed.

  “I’m Young-hee ...”

  “Yes, the human child. I hope we won’t have to re-state everything. Once is usually enough for me.”

  “Uh, yes, of course,” said Young-hee, taken aback. She pulled the towel around her for warmth, then sneezed violently, twice.

  “You’re cold,” said Mirinae. She tossed another towel, walked to the wall, and pulled a metal bar. A thump. Deep rattling. Then, a prolonged hiss. A moment later, Young-hee felt the stone floor heating upbeneath her feet.

  “Ondol heating,” said Young-hee. “Nice. But how?”

  “Water power,” said Mirinae. “You need energy to get anything done, and my workshop has the best clepsydra in all the land. Come, see.” She turned up the hall’s lanterns with a handle connected to a rope and pulleys, and motioned Young-hee to a massive cage of hard white bones. It churned rhythmically up and down. “It’s a water pump made from the backbone of a dragon,” Mirinae said proudly. “Extremely hard to acquire, but they make the most powerful pumps. It powers not only my clepsydra, but also that armillary sphere, my astrolabe, orrery, and torquetum. And the lights and ondol floor heating. Very useful.” She pushed a small lever and the interconnected brass rings inscribed on the table started rotating and spinning in arcs.

  “Wow, what is it?”

  “It’s an astrolabe—for charting the movement of the stars and the heavens. I have mapped all eighteen trigrams and the one hundred celestial systems. She pointed up at the largest machine, at the huge rings overhead that filled the hall with thick, iron arcs and massive metals gears. “That is my armillary sphere for more precise measurements of more distant bodies.”

  “Wow,” Young-hee repeated, before sneezing a third time.

  “Enough of my boasting,” said Mirinae. “Sit here on the floor’s hottest spot. I’ll make you some naengmyeon.”

  “Cold noodles?” said Young-hee, finding the spot blessedly warm. “Thank you, but if you had any hot food …”

  “Pah, don’t you know anything?” said Mirinae, shuffling off to the kitchen. “Only the ignorant eat naengmyeon to cool down. You must wait until you are truly cold, then sit on the hottest spot on the ondol floor and eat them. It’s a scientific fact.” She started cooking, paying little attention to her guests.

  “What do you think?” Young-hee asked her friends.

  “Tigers don’t know much about machines and measurements,” said Tiger, stretching his massive body to full length to soak in the maximum heat.

  “Knowledge is a disease,” scoffed Samjogo. “Wisdom, happiness, the important things in life don’t exist in books or science.”

  “Well, I think it’s pretty cool,” said Young-hee, a little dejected by her friends’ indifference.”

  Mirinae brought a big bowl of the cold, buckwheat noodle soup in an icy broth for Young-hee and Samjogo. “I don’t suppose a Tiger would like a bowl of noodles and vegetables?” she asked.

  “Oh, I could eat a little.”

  “Really? Fascinating,” muttered Mirinae, as fetched him a bowl, and a small one for herself. She barely picked at it as she waited for the others to finish.

  “So, why do you live high on this hill, all by yourself?” asked Young-hee drinking the last of the broth.

  “Science,” said Mirinae.

  “Science?”

  “Yes, this location has excellent pung su, with the ridge behind, the cliff in front, and a river below.”

  “Ah, that kind of science.”

  “That kind of science? Please, science is science—it doesn’t have kinds. And, by the science of pung su, this location is ideal for learning, thinking and, most importantly, seeing. Being so high makes it easier to see both the heavens and the worlds under the heavens. I need to see them all to be accurate. And I need to be accurate to know … what I need to know.” After clearing their empty bowls, Mirinae sat with a plunk facing Young-hee. “Okay, you’ve traveled far to my little observatory, eaten, dried off, and rested. Your visit was important enough to stir signs in the stars and winds, so, now, tell me why you’ve come?”

  “Well, the thing is,” Young-hee said, thinking about her words and then just blurting, “I need to find a pullocho.”

  “A pullocho?”

  “Yes, it’s a kind of root, like ginseng.”

  Mirinae rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know, but why would a simple girl like you want such a powerful magic?”

  “It’s for my brother,” said Young-hee, and repeated the whole dreadful story. “I was told it is in the shadow of a sandalwood tree in the ruins of the Sacred City. No one knows where that is, so they said I was to ask animal spirits. They didn’t know either, so they sent me to you.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “But can you help me get my brother back?”

  “Hmm… this isn’t as easy as eating juk. It’s more like plucking stars from the heavens.”

  “Yes, but can you help?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You know where the pullocho is? Or the Sacred City?”

  “No.”

  “No?” cried Young-hee, readying for crushing disappointment.

  “The Sacred City is more a concept than an actual location, and it tends to move around.”

  “Jigyeowo. But … you said you can help me.”

  “I said ‘perhaps.’ I do have one idea.” Mirinae stood and went to her workshop. She hunted through clocks and gears and strange devices before plucking out a small metal circle with a metal bar in the middle, attached to an angled plane. “It’s a compass, of sorts, combined with a torquetum. But I have replaced the usual chinam-chim—the ‘south-facing needle’—with a device of my own making. A chi-oon-chim.”

  “What’s that?”

  “‘Oon’ … That’s fate,” said Samjogo.

  “Ah, so he’s the brains of your group. Yes, fate, or fortune, or luck, depending on who’s asking. My compass points toward your fate.”

  “Or future?”

  “Or luck. I’ve never been able to get it to work properly.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’re not the only seeker of Namgoong Mirinae’s help. And not even the first in search of a pullocho. Which is why I invented my chioonchim.”

  “To help people find their destinies?”

  “To help me make money. Science doesn’t come cheap, and as you can see, my work burns through a lot of capital. So I thought a machine that could help spirits, demons, and other creatures on their many and various quests could be very profitable. Sadly, though, the chioonchim has a bit of a flaw. Instead of pointing to one’s fate, it only pointed to the past.”

  “That’s not helpful,” agreed Young-hee.

  “But couldn’t you just turn it around?” interjected Samjogo.

  “What?”

  “Well, the whole point of a regular compass is, if you know north, you can figure out its opposite, south, and all the other directions. So if your chioonchim points to the past, shouldn’t it also tell someone’s future and present?”

  “It doesn’t exactly work like that,” said Mirinae. “There are more … planes involved. More dimensions. It’s not a front-back, either-or problem. Spiritual space isn’t the same as physical. It’s not about where you are, but who you are. What you want and what you need.”

  “Choice,” said Young-hee. “The problem is choice.”

  “Choice?” repeated Mirinae.

  “Strange
Land’s creatures don’t really make choices. Who they are, what they do or want, it’s all been written down for them already. It’s all a reflection of the real world, of our stories. Your world is stories, mine writes them.”

  “Fascinating theory,” said Mirinae. “A bit condescending, but fascinating. And just a theory. I suppose the only way to know is to put theory into practice.” Mirinae walked off, poking her chioonchim thoughtfully.

  “Where you are going?”

  “To the lookout platform to test your theory. Come on.” They followed Mirinae up the steep wooden steps that curled around the great chamber’s inner wall. It was steeper than it looked and, without a banister, quite scary.

  Up top, the workshop below shrank to messy details, except for the massive armillary sphere. The platform was nearly as full of mysterious equipment as the lower level. One table was full of lenses of different sizes and colors; others with tubes and charts and levers of all kinds. Large slats in the wooden roof and walls could slide open and closed with ropes and winches.

  “This is an observatory?” asked Young-hee.

  “The best in the land, yes,” said Mirinae, fiddling with the chioonchim. “I can see for many li in all directions. And with my cheolligyeong, I can see even further.”

  “Ah, it is a telescope,” said Young-hee. The device was covered in star charts, although no Big Dipper or Orion or anything Young-hee recognized.

  Samjogo picked up a large, red lens and held it to the light. “Careful, that’s a fire pearl,” said Mirinae. “You don’t want to know what I went through to get it, or the cost if you broke it.” Samjogo placed it back down quickly and very carefully.

  Mirinae finished placing a spring inside the chioonchim and admired her handiwork. “Okay, I need something personal of yours,” she said. “The lodestone is made from essentite, a very emotionally sensitive mineral. When wrapped with something uniquely yours, it is imbued with your spirit and sensitive to your field.”

  Standing with her hands in her pockets, Young-hee’s fingers fell on something small and springy: one last hair band. She took it out and stretched it. “How about this?”