A Tiding of Magpies

by Robert Dahlen

  Jiao nodded. “But we need to hurry, Auntie! We only have two and a half days to reach the bridge.”

  “So we need to hire someone who already has provisions!” They were passing a tavern, and Auntie Ting pointed at the two pack mules tied up outside. “The merchant who owns these should do.”

  “Shall I speak to him?” Jiao said.

  “I’ll bring him out.” Auntie Ting went inside the tavern.

  “You know,” Yun said, “we could make a break for it—” Jiao glared at him, and he stopped talking.

  “What do you think?” Michiko asked Beth.

  “I think I’d hate to be on her bad side,” she answered. “What about you?”

  “I like her!” Michiko grinned. “I hope I have her energy at her age! And…” She glanced at the pack mules. “Jiao, does that merchant’s crest look familiar to you?”

  The princess followed Michiko’s gaze, staring at the four copper coins in a diamond pattern. “It does, but I can’t quite remember—”

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

  Michiko and the others looked over at the tavern. One of the patrons was being half-led and half-dragged out by Auntie Ting, who had a death grip on his ear. “Let me go, old woman!” he yelled. “I am not a naughty schoolboy to be treated like this!”

  The priestess released the patron’s ear, and he stood up straight. He was tall and well-dressed, with a rugged yet handsome face worn by years of travel, a pointed goatee, and eyes that seemed to Beth as if they could tell the value of an object, or a person, with just a glance.

  He looked over at Jiao and dashed across the street, falling to his knees in front of the princess. “Your Majesty!” he said. “Forgive me! I thought the priestess was exaggerating!”

  “You are forgiven, Merchant Sheng.” Jiao smiled.

  “And is that who I think it is?” Sheng said as he stood.

  “Yep!” Michiko walked up to him. “I’m glad to see you, Sheng.”

  “As am I, Michiko.” They clasped hands happily. “So what brings you here?”

  “Oh, just rescuing Jiao’s boyfriend from being executed by Lord Hong’s men, then finding out we have less than three days to get to the Bridge of Magpies.”

  “Business as usual, then,” Merchant Sheng said with a wry smile. “I would be honored to help you, my friends.”

  “Retreat!” the bandit shouted. He and the others, who had obviously expected less of a challenge from a merchant and two young women, took to their heels.

  The merchant sheathed his sword and brushed off his ornate clothing. “Now,” he said, “perhaps you can explain to me what is going on.”

  One of the women, who was dressed in white and still holding her folded war fans, stared at him. “I’ve heard about you,” she said. “Merchant Sheng. The most renowned trader in all of Nui. The man who could sell anything to anyone, and find paths where others only see obstacles.”

  “You flatter me.” Merchant Sheng bowed.

  “I would like to hire you as our guide,” the woman in white said. “There is a conspiracy, a plot that must be stopped. We have to get to the capital at once.”

  “A conspiracy?”

  “They seek to assassinate the Great Tactician. My friend and I are following one of the conspirators.”

  “Are you part of this?” Sheng’s hand brushed his sword hilt. “I will not let any harm come to the savior of Nui.”

  “Neither will I.” The woman in white snapped her fans open.

  Sheng stared at the royal crest. “Princess Jiao!” he said. She nodded, and he fell to his knees. “Forgive me, Your Majesty! I had no idea!”

  “You are forgiven.” Jiao smiled. “But we need to move quickly.”

  “Of course. But I must ask…why are you traveling with an Earthling?”

  “I’m helping Jiao find the conspirator,” the human said. “He stole something from a friend, and I want to get it back.”

  “You remind me of the old stories of Sun Wukong,” Merchant Sheng said as he stood. “You’re not related?”

  “Nope!” The human grinned. “They do call me the Monkey Queen, though. But my friends call me Michiko.”

  “It’s a good thing we ran into you when we did!” Michiko said as she finished the tale of how she and Princess Jiao had met Merchant Sheng.

  Jiao nodded. “That shortcut you found for us helped us reach the palace before the conspirators could take action!”

  “Happy to serve,” Sheng replied with a smile. He was leading the way, guiding his pack mules, Chin and Bao. Behind him, Jiao and Michiko, Beth was walking alongside Auntie Ting. Prince Yun brought up the rear, watching everything around him carefully even though the group was still walking through quiet, flat farmlands without another soul in sight.

  “You know,” Jiao continued, “my grandfather’s offer still stands. The post of Royal Merchant is open.”

  “And perhaps I’ll take it someday. For now, I’m happy with the way things are.” Sheng petted his mules. “Right, girls?” One of the mules nuzzled him affectionately.

  “But doesn’t your girlfriend want you to settle down?”

  Sheng laughed. “Jade Crane likes not having me in her hair all the time. It lets her study and research in peace!” Michiko giggled, and the merchant added, “That reminds me…”

  He took a small pouch off his belt and handed it to Michiko. She opened it and pulled out a small crystal bottle with a golden stopper. “Dragonscale extract?” she asked.

  Sheng nodded. “One dose. I just acquired it in a trade last week. It could come in useful if one of us should be badly hurt.”

  “I remember how the extract helped to heal General Guo,” Jiao said.

  “So why give this to me?” Michiko said. “Why not Auntie Ting?”

  “You’re the least likely to need it,” Sheng said, “and the most likely to get it to someone who needs it in time.”

  Michiko nodded and slipped the bottle into a pocket. “Let’s hope we don’t have to use it,” she said.

  Auntie Ting had taken it on herself to tell Beth about the Far Lands as the group walked along. Like Faerie on the other side of the world, the Far Lands was one large continent, Yuandong. It was crisscrossed by rivers, with several clusters of islands near its shores.

  For centuries three countries, Xia, Liang, and Henan, had dominated the continent, keeping the smaller lands along the coasts under their thumbs. The borders of the three kingdoms all converged on one region that was surrounded on all sides by rivers. The kingdoms fought time and again over, and in, that region, which was known by its natives as Nui.

  Eighteen years ago, a general who became known as the Great Tactician decided that enough was enough. He outwitted the best military minds of the three kingdoms, chased their forces out, and claimed Nui for his own. He was acclaimed as a wise ruler by his people, and they admired his son the Crown Prince and loved his granddaughter, Princess Jiao.

  Since then, Nui had entered into peace treaties with Xia and Henan. However, Liang had refused to negotiate. It was ruled by Lord Hong, a conniving and stubborn warlord with a cruel streak, and he refused to accept that Nui would not be part of his kingdom.

  “His agents keep sneaking into Nui,” Auntie Ting was saying as the group walked on into the afternoon. “The Emperor’s troops keep chasing them out, but they always find a way back in.”

  Jiao nodded. “Hong’s men captured Yun while we were heading to the capital to meet with Father. I managed to get away, but it was fortunate that I was so close to the auldgate and could get Michiko’s help.”

  As the others murmured agreement, Beth said, “Auntie Ting?”

  “Yes?” the old priestess said.

  “If I may ask—why is it called the Bridge of Magpies?”

  “Ah!” Auntie Ting smiled. “There is a story behind that, one of the classic tales of Heaven! It has been told and retold for centuries! You and the Monkey Queen need to hear it, wizard!”

  “I’m not a wizard,” Beth mu
ttered as Michiko moved next to her.

  Auntie Ting ignored her. “Come closer, spread your ears, and a tale I will tell!”

  Once upon a time in Heaven, there was a god who was an author. He was of middle age, as gods go, and behind his words and characters and stories were a winning grin and a ready laugh, a clever mind and a gentle soul. His tales were shared and spread to all the corners of Heaven. Yet for all the acclaim sent his way, he found himself lonely. His acquaintances tried to tell him that he should find a modest, meek goddess who could keep his house and keep him grounded. He nodded politely, but he knew his heart needed more.

  There was also a goddess, young as gods go. She was an expert seamstress, well-read and quick of wit, with enchanting eyes and a smile that could charm the stars out of the sky. And she was the most skilled archer in Heaven; she could shoot the stem off an apple. But she, too, was lonely. Her acquaintances tried to tell her that she needed a suitor, a daring god who would sweep her off her feet and lead her to a life of adventure. She knew better.

  It was by sheer coincidence that the author and the archer met. He was captivated by her eyes and her smile, while she sensed his kindly heart and his wild imagination. It wasn’t love at first, just the one meeting followed by letter after letter. But in her, he saw the muse he needed to spur his creativity and bring him joy. In him, she saw the kind and witty spirit to keep her smiling and help fulfill her dreams. And in time, it grew into love.

  Alas! Love can be wondrous and beautiful, but it can also provoke bitterness and jealousy. The acquaintances of the author and the archer complained loud and long to the Emperor of Heaven, for how dare they ignore them and listen to their hearts instead?

  At that time, the Emperor was dealing with not only the usual pressures of ruling Heaven but also constant griping from the Empress, who had earlier lost a prize diamond from her favorite crown. He was in a sour mood, and his hangover from the first of that year’s plum wine crop didn’t help, when he called the author and the archer in for an audience.

  When the Emperor expressed his doubt about the relationship, the author spoke of courage and true love and defiance. This gave the archer strength, and she spoke in turn of putting an arrow in the ribcage of whoever would keep her and the one she loved apart. She quickly apologized, but that was the last straw for the Emperor.

  He allowed the lovers one kiss, which would be their first and last. As their lips parted, he separated them and with a gesture sent them away, banishing them to opposite sides of Heaven, the entirety of land and sea and sky between them, never to see one another again.

  The author found a cottage to live in where he could write to his heart’s content, with all the ink and paper he could need and an audience waiting for every tale. But the stories he now wrote were tinged with loneliness and sorrow.

  The archer found a small cabin, with an archery range in the back, and neighbors who were good and pleasant company. But there was a sadness that held sway in her heart, leaving everything joyless, her favorite books, her needle and thread, even her beloved longbow.

  The Emperor forbade them from even contacting one another. Letters were never delivered, magical communiques were dispelled. Their paths were blocked when they strayed too far from their new homes. Days turned into weeks, and the author felt the faint flicker of hope he desperately clung to going out.

  But the archer refused to lose hope. The memory of the author’s kind heart drove her, their one kiss inspired her. She would be with her love again.

  Near her home was a meadow ringed by shrubs and bushes where berries grew in every season. Many of the birds of Heaven came there to dine on the sweet berries. One day, the fifth day of the seventh month, the King of Magpies himself had come, and was helping himself to the delicious fruit.

  The archer had a magic arrow in her quiver, one that would snare objects and bring them to her. When she saw the King of Magpies, she nocked that arrow in her longbow, and the goddess who could shoot the stem off an apple shot a golden feather off the bird’s tail and caught it as the magic arrow returned to her quiver.

  Now the King of Magpies had some good and noble qualities, but he was also quite vain. He had acquired, in the way magpies do, several feathers from other birds to decorate his tail, and he was quite unhappy with one being taken from him. “Goddess!” he shouted. “How dare you tamper with the royal tail?”

  “Watch yourself,” the archer said, and quick as a wink she had readied another arrow. “I am desperate.”

  “And violence prone.”

  “I am willing to strike a deal, King of Magpies. You can get your tail feather back if you will deliver two messages.”

  “Two?” the king said.

  “One would be to my true love, who has been banished far from here. The other would, I hope, be from him to me.”

  “And why should I do this? I can always find another feather.”

  “I know.” The archer lowered her longbow. “But without my love, I have no purpose, no joy, only loneliness. I would do anything to be with him.”

  Magpies might be vain, with a tendency to claim things not theirs for themselves, but they also symbolize love and hope, and the king saw the tear in the archer’s eye and remembered the Queen of Magpies, who was in hiding after being a touch too attracted to a pretty, shiny diamond. “I will help you,” the King of Magpies said. The archer placed a small case on a leather strap around the bird’s neck, and he flew off into the sunset.

  The king was as good as his word, and he reached the other side of Heaven the next morning, the sixth day of the seventh month. He arrived at the author’s cottage and hovered outside the window. Through it, he could see the author, sleeping at his desk, piles of crumpled and discarded paper around him.

  The bird rapped on the window with his beak. The author woke up and stared blearily at the King of Magpies. “What brings you here, Your Majesty?” the author asked as he threw the window open. “If you’ve come to commission a story, you’ll have to wait. The words…are not coming like they used to.”

  “I bear a message,” the king said as he perched on the desk. The author took the case from around the bird’s neck. He turned away as he pulled out the folded paper and read what was written there.

  When the author looked up, there were tears on his cheeks. “Thank you, King of Magpies,” he whispered. “You have brought back something I thought I had lost forever. You’ve given me hope.”

  The king bowed. “I have been tasked to bring back a message, if you wish.”

  “That won’t be enough. I need to be with her. I need to overcome the Emperor’s will. I’ll move earth, sea and sky if I have to…”

  The author stopped, a mad gleam in his eyes. “Oh, dear,” the king muttered.

  “The sky! That’s it!” The author ran back to his desk, dug through the papers there until he found one that wasn’t crumpled or ink-stained, and wrote feverishly. When he had finished, he stuffed the paper in the case and hung it around the King of Magpies’ neck, thanking him again and again, and the bird took to the skies.

  It was late in the day when he reached the archer’s cabin, and other birds had gathered by the berry bushes, including members of royalty. The archer took the case from around the king’s neck and turned away. The birds all did their best to pretend they weren’t listening to her gasp, then her joyful weeping, and, at the end, her laughter.

  “Thank you, King of Magpies,” the archer finally said. “You have brought back the love I thought I might have lost forever. Thank you.”

  The king bowed. “Now about that tail feather…”

  “We’ll get to that later. Right now, we have a plan to discuss.”

  “A plan?” the king croaked.

  “My love has a marvelous idea! And once it’s carried out, we will be reunited! We’ll be together at last!” The archer laughed.

  The King of Magpies saw the gleam in her eyes. “Oh, dear,” he muttered as the archer waved the other royal birds over. />
  They listened silently to the archer as she read from the author’s message. When she was done, the birds all looked at each other. Finally, the Duchess of Sparrows cleared her throat. “My lady…”

  “Yes?” the archer said.

  “Has being separated from you driven your love just somewhat mad, or completely insane?”

  “What?”

  “This plan is ludicrous!” The Duchess flapped her wings. “Asking every bird in Heaven to be part of a living bridge across the skies?”

  “But—”

  “How in the world,” said the Earl of Eagles, “are you going to get hundreds of thousands of birds to hold still?”

  “I—”

  “No god is walking across my back!” shouted the Count of Starlings. The other birds chirped in agreement.

  The archer stared at them, mouth agape. “But…you don’t understand. You’re my last hope,” she said softly. “If you won’t help, I’ll…I’ll never see him again…” She fell to her knees, covered her face in her hands, and sobbed.

  The birds watched her as she wept, and some of them had tears in their eyes as well. “We…we have to help her,” the Duchess of Sparrows said.

  “But how?” asked the Earl of Eagles. “We can’t be a bridge of birds.”

  “Wait.” Everyone turned towards the Princess of Jays, those cleverest of birds. “We can’t be a bridge…but we can build one.”

  “How? We’re just birds.”

  “Watch.” The Princess of Jays flew into the trees, returning with a branch in her talons. “There,” she said as she dropped the branch on the ground.

  “That’s a very small bridge,” the Count of Starlings said.

  “But if all of us did this…it would still be very small, wouldn’t it?” The princess shook her head.

  Then, there was a loud chirp. The other birds fell quiet as the King of Magpies began to sing, as clear as a summer breeze. When he had finished, he said, “If every bird in Heaven were to do this, we could build a bridge that would span the skies.” And as he spoke, a tiding of magpies swooped into the meadow, singing in a tangled yet oddly sweet cacophony, all bearing branches that they dropped in a growing stack.