Xiao Yen met her eye and refused to show any fear. Ling-Ling could be mean. It showed in her sharp teeth and thin lips. For her first turn, she’d demanded Xiao Yen eat four spicy peppers. The trick had turned against Ling-Ling. Xiao Yen’s mother had grown up in the south, and Xiao Yen was used to spicy food.
Sudden laughter came from the corner of the family courtyard. Ama, Xiao Yen’s nurse, sat on the steps telling a story to half a dozen of Xiao Yen’s younger cousins. Xiao Yen looked at them with longing. Not too long ago she’d always sat with the storytelling group. Now she only got to hear stories at night. Ama had all the children waving their arms. Xiao Yen guessed the story: “The Mandarin and the Hundred Butterflies.” She wished Ling-Ling would have listened harder to that story, which taught that cruelty was always “rewarded” with more cruelty.
“Hurry up,” called Han Wanju, another of Xiao Yen’s cousins, as Ling-Ling circled Xiao Yen again. “Or it’ll be time for lunch before you decide.” Han Wanju was always concerned about food, as evidenced by her fat cheeks and pudgy fingers.
The sun shone down in the square family compound. The outer walls of the “sky well” were solid stone, light yellow-red in color. One-story wooden rooms sitting on squat stilts lined the walls. If the courtyard flooded in the spring rains, the rooms didn’t. Also, during the winter, fires on either side of the rooms were set up, and warm air traveled through a collection of pipes under the floors.
“I’ve decided,” Ling-Ling announced after she’d circled Xiao Yen a third time. “I want you to spin—”
“Wang Tie-Tie has a visitor!” Gan Ou interrupted as she rushed through the full-moon-shaped gate that separated the front courtyard from the family courtyard. Two servants hurried behind her. One went straight ahead, heading toward the far back courtyard where the kitchen was. The other cut diagonally across the family courtyard to the gate shaped like a vase. Beyond that gate lay the Garden of Sweet Scents, where Fu Be Be, Wang Tie-Tie, and the other aunts sat drinking tea.
“Girls! Come here, out of the way,” Ama called.
Xiao Yen turned and started walking toward the far corner where Ama and the other children sat.
Ling-Ling scooped up the ball and called, “Hey! It’s still my turn to tell you what to do!”
“That’s right, Xiao Yen. You need to get used to other people telling you what to do,” Gan Ou added.
Xiao Yen stopped short of the safety of the other children. “What?” she asked as she turned around. “Who’s the visitor? Isn’t it Chu Tie-Tie?” Aunty Chu was a cha-ping of Wang Tie-Tie. When she came over, she and Wang Tie-Tie sat and drank tea together for hours, telling stories from their childhood. Wang Tie-Tie was always jovial after a visit from one of her “tea-friends,” not upset like she’d been that morning. The incense the servants had bought at the market was poor quality and wouldn’t stay lit. Wang Tie-Tie had yelled at them, calling them things Xiao Yen hadn’t understood. Then her mother had started yelling at Wang Tie-Tie. Xiao Yen had been glad when her cousins had arrived and everyone had to be nice to each other again.
“No, it isn’t her,” Gan Ou said with a smile so sharp its ends glistened. At seven years old, Xiao Yen didn’t know all of her sister’s smiles, but she suspected this one wasn’t a good one. Fu Be Be always said Gan Ou was prettier than Xiao Yen. Xiao Yen doubted her mother looked beyond Gan Ou’s smiles.
“Who is it?” Xiao Yen asked.
Gan Ou didn’t respond.
Wang Tie-Tie appeared in the gateway and walked across the courtyard, not deigning to look at anyone there. Her gray hair was piled high on her head and held in place by three long hairpins with pearls stretched between them. Two strands of hair hung loose from the arrangement and curled next to her ears. Her mouth was the color of spring cherries, a startling contrast to her powdered face. She wore a coat of plum-colored silk with an elegant pattern of peonies woven into it. The sleeves were longer and tighter than was fashionable. They always covered her arms to the wrist. She never drew them back.
Xiao Yen took a deep breath and felt her chest fill with pride. Wang Tie-Tie was so beautiful. Her skin was as white and fine as the statue at the Fire Mountain Temple of Nü-gua, the half-human, half-snake goddess who’d brought civilization to the Middle Kingdom.
Servants followed, carrying the best tea service, the one with fine thin cups the color of old jade. The visitor must be important.
Xiao Yen sneaked a quick look at her sister. Gan Ou wore her good red jacket, so pale it was almost pink. Xiao Yen wondered if it was good enough to greet the visitor in, or if Gan Ou would have to change into her festival clothes. At ten years old, Gan Ou was old enough to be presented. She’d put on her best smile and charm everyone with her good manners, Being younger, Xiao Yen would probably stay behind with the rest of the children.
Before Xiao Yen could look down, Gan Ou had turned around. The color of her jacket reflected in her cheeks, a very pretty pink. Her smile was sharper than before.
“I bet they’re going to send for you next,” Gan Ou said. Ling-Ling and Han Wanju stood shoulder to shoulder next to Gan Ou, facing Xiao Yen.
Xiao Yen asked, “Why?” She folded her arms in front of her chest. The three girls looked like vultures waiting for her, the tiny bird, to make one wrong move.
“Because that man you were talking with at the temple this morning is our visitor,” Gan Ou said.
“What man?” Ling-Ling demanded.
“Really?” Xiao Yen asked, almost whispering. Why was he here? She remembered the hungry look in his eyes. A small tremor of fear ran through the center of her chest. She swallowed hard.
Gan Ou told the story, then turned back to Xiao Yen. “You’re right to be afraid.” She dropped her voice and came closer to Xiao Yen. “Do you know why he’s here? Do you know what Wang Tie-Tie’s going to do?”
Xiao Yen said no. Had he talked about a school of cranes? She didn’t remember.
Gan Ou reached out and touched Xiao Yen’s shoulder. “He buys children, trains them at this school of his, then sells them as servants to rich houses. You know, everyone knows, we need money. Ever since Papa died, we’ve been at the mercy of Wang Tie-Tie. Now, Wang Tie-Tie is going to sell you, so Mama and I can stay here. That was her bargain with Mama, you know.”
Xiao Yen scowled. “Mama wouldn’t sell me.”
“I bet she would,” Ling-Ling said. “Your mother told my mother how she despaired of you. She had to bring you to Wang Tie-Tie to be scolded three times last week, didn’t she? Selling you would solve her problems, and Wang Tie-Tie’s. I feel sorry for you.”
Xiao Yen bit her lip. True, Mama did scold her often, more often than she scolded Gan Ou. Plus, Mama didn’t have to bring Gan Ou in front of Wang Tie-Tie for a lecture as often as she had to take Xiao Yen. Would she sell her youngest daughter? Ama told many stories of children being sold as servants.
Gan Ou put her hands together in front of her chest as if in prayer and said, “I’ll never forget you, Xiao Yen. I swear by the Buddha himself. If I ever have enough money to buy your contract back, I will. I swear it.”
Xiao Yen trusted Gan Ou’s words. She’d do the same for Gan Ou. She’d walk across the sea or battle a thousand demons to help her family, or do her duty. She peered into her sister’s face. Gan Ou stared back, eyes wide and sincere. Yet, that smile still lurked. Xiao Yen didn’t believe that smile. She repeated, “Mama wouldn’t sell me.”
Gan Ou said, “It isn’t Mama who’s selling you. It’s Wang Tie-Tie. Why do you think she was so angry this morning? It wasn’t because of the incense. It was because she and Mama had been fighting about you.”
Xiao Yen heard some truth in her sister’s words. “I don’t believe you,” Xiao Yen said, though not as fiercely.
Another servant rushed into the family courtyard, going straight to Ama sitting in the corner, then whispering in her ear. Ama looked up and stared at Xiao Yen.
“I’ll never forget you, Xiao Yen,” Gan Ou said as Ama g
ot up and came toward where the girls stood.
“Me neither,” said Ling-Ling. “I’ll always remember how pretty your hands were before they got ruined by working.” Ling-Ling smiled politely at Xiao Yen, her sharp teeth showing.
Ama reached out to Xiao Yen and said, “Let me look at you.” She spun Xiao Yen around, brushing her hand over Xiao Yen’s pants. “I suppose your jacket is fine enough,” she said.
Xiao Yen glanced at her jacket. It was made from light blue cotton, with a pattern of white waves embroidered around the hem. Her pants were a darker blue, plain, but well made.
“Why do I have to go?” Xiao Yen asked as Ama took her hand and led her toward the gate. “Why doesn’t Gan Ou have to go?” Xiao Yen looked over her shoulder at Gan Ou, who mouthed the words “never forget you” with exaggerated motions.
“Because Wang Tie-Tie didn’t send for Gan Ou. She sent for you. Quit dawdling,” Ama said. “Master Wei is an important man. And your aunt doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
The formal courtyard, also called the Yard of Greeting, was covered with large whitish, quarried stones, like tile. The Hall of Politeness was the only building in the Yard of Greeting. Knobby ridges went from the high point of the roof to the four lifted corners. Small brass bells hung under the eaves and rang when the wind touched them. All the tall sliding doors on the long southern side of the hall were open. The doors on the short side of the hall, facing east, were closed, but the shutters were open so light could pass through the finely carved latticework. Incense floated from the hall, filling the courtyard with a heavy, solemn scent.
Xiao Yen walked in front of Ama up the three broad steps to the hall, then paused at the threshold. After the brilliant sunshine she couldn’t see inside the dark hall. Ama came up behind her and nudged her forward.
Slowly the room resolved itself. Wang Tie-Tie sat at the long low table, facing Xiao Yen. The man Xiao Yen had met at the temple sat around the corner from Wang Tie-Tie, with his back to an altar dedicated to Kuan Yin, the goddess of mercy. He sat on the best pillow, the one reserved for the most important guests. He wore the same all-black jacket. The embroidered cranes caught the light every now and again as he moved his arms. His gray beard formed a neat point just past his chin. He looked proper, worthy of being treated like an important guest. But his words made no sense.
“The immortality of the crane is reflected in the dance. Learning it helps one manifest qi, which feeds the shan. It also increases the jing. One grows in harmony with the nobility of the crane. The qi rises with the wings of the crane, sinks with each landing. Jing swells with movement and understanding.”
A scowl tugged down the edges of Wang Tie-Tie’s fine mouth. She sipped her tea, watching her hands as she brought the cup up to her lips and returned it to the table, instead of politely regarding her visitor. The room was too dark for Xiao Yen to see the expression in her aunt’s eyes, but she suspected they held anger.
Wang Tie-Tie sat in front of the altar dedicated to Xiao Yen’s ancestors. The family poem hung above her aunt, drawn with beautiful firm strokes in black ink on yellowing silk. Once a year the head of the household swore to uphold the values listed there. The second name of sons often came from the family poem. An altar table stood under the poem, holding a sand-filled brazier. Three sticks of incense burned in it, sending long curving streamers toward the high ceiling. A small bowl of rice, three gold cups filled with wine, and two sprigs of jasmine also lay below the poem.
Xiao Yen held her head up higher, less afraid. Wang Tie-Tie was so beautiful, framed by her family poem and the altar, almost like a goddess herself. She wouldn’t sell Xiao Yen.
“One is taught to appreciate and understand nature, the light and dark sides of the day, both the mountain and the valley. Only by fully understanding the nature of a creature and the nature of your materials can one infuse an image with its own jing, or life force. It isn’t a matter of compelling an artifact. You must mold yourself to it and it to you.”
Suddenly Master Wei stopped babbling and said, “May I show you?” Without waiting for a response, he reached inside his sleeve and drew out a snowy white piece of paper.
Wang Tie-Tie’s attention froze on his hands. The room grew still.
Xiao Yen only drew shallow breaths as she watched. Master Wei’s fingers were stiff and precise, a counterpoint to his arms, which moved in a graceful dance, folding one over the other as he folded the paper. The last two folds he did with his hands above the paper, hiding it. When he finished, he revealed a beautiful paper dove.
Master Wei stared at the dove. His smooth brow didn’t wrinkle, but Xiao Yen could tell he concentrated hard. Xiao Yen thought his cheeks glowed with the effort until she realized the light came from his creation. A small white cloud covered where the paper dove had stood. The cloud swelled until it was almost the same size as Master Wei’s head. Then the edges sharpened and solidified. A real dove, gray and white, now stood on the table.
The bird pecked at its feet a few times, before spreading its wings and hopping into the air. It flew around the room three times before flying over Xiao Yen’s head and out the door. She gasped with delight as it winged its way toward the bright blue sky. In a moment, it was a speck on the horizon. A moment after that, it was gone.
Xiao Yen felt her smile spread from her face all the way to her toes. She was so lucky to have seen that! Who would have thought Master Wei was a magician? Just wait until she told Gan Ou and Ling-Ling. No one she knew had ever seen a mage before, though their work was rumored to be everywhere. Her eldest cousin said he had a friend who knew someone whose sister had married a man who had a magic trident that caught eels every time he stuck it in the water. Plus, Xiao Yen had never heard of magic being done with paper. All the stories Ama told used magic mirrors or hairpins.
An ashlike dove still stood on the table. Master Wei picked it up. It disintegrated into dust in his hands. He poured the remains of his creation into a bag at his waist.
When Master Wei looked up, Wang Tie-Tie asked in a strangled voice, “How much?”
An icicle plunged through Xiao Yen’s chest. Was her aunt going to sell her after all?
“We can discuss terms later,” Master Wei said. “I’m sure we can come up with something agreeable.”
“And you’re sure Xiao Yen is the one you want? Not one of my sons?” Wang Tie-Tie asked, sipping her tea with shaking hands.
Xiao Yen felt even colder. Was Wang Tie-Tie afraid of this man? Was that why she was selling Xiao Yen?
“No, your sons are too old. The training must start when they’re Xiao Yen’s age.”
“And she’ll be able to do . . . to cast . . . to make paper come alive?” Wang Tie-Tie asked, looking hard at Master Wei.
Master Wei rubbed his hands across the table as if smoothing out a wrinkle. “She must work hard. She must study the nature of things, through paintings, through poems, through observation. She must be able to control the flow of essential energies, both through herself and to her creations. If she can imagine enough, and understand enough, after many years, then she’ll be able to do paper magic.”
Paper magic? Master Wei wanted to teach her paper magic? Gan Ou and Ling-Ling were going to be so jealous. Xiao Yen couldn’t wait to tell them.
Wang Tie-Tie motioned for Xiao Yen to come farther into the hall.
Xiao Yen felt shy in front of the great magician, so she moved forward slowly.
Master Wei stood and looked down at her. His dark eyes glittered under his bushy eyebrows, like a fierce demon hunter.
Xiao Yen backed up, afraid.
“Ah, hmmm,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” Wang Tie-Tie asked.
“Ah, well, when I saw her at the temple, she was, not so shy. She needs to be, um, well, less restrained, I guess, if she’s going to succeed.”
Wang Tie-Tie said, “I’ll make sure of it.”
Xiao Yen didn’t like the cold sound of her aunt’s words.
�
��You understand that I’ve only agreed to test her for the school, to see if she’ll work out. If she fails the first exam in six months, well . . .”
Wang Tie-Tie said with a little impatience, “I do understand.”
Master Wei replied in a tired voice, “I’m sure you do.” They bowed many times saying their good-byes.
After Master Wei had gone, Wang Tie-Tie called Xiao Yen to her side, then pulled her niece closer so Xiao Yen’s face was next to hers. “You’re a wonder, child. My hope. My true descendant. Do you understand why he asked for you? What he wants to do for you?”
Xiao Yen said she understood, wishing she could melt into the floor. Wang Tie-Tie had never looked so pretty, or so fierce. Her perfume mingled with her breath, sweet flowers and bitter tea. This was worse than being scolded, because for all her kind words, Xiao Yen had the feeling Wang Tie-Tie was angry at her. She didn’t know why.
“He wants to teach you paper magic. You will learn it. I was promised once . . . Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”
Wang Tie-Tie turned and looked out the door, across the courtyard and into the sky, as if she followed the path the dove had taken.
“More independent, hmm? Old fool thought I didn’t know what he meant. But I do. And you’ll learn, all your lessons, very well. No matter how poor it may make you.”
Xiao Yen didn’t reply. Wang Tie-Tie’s words sounded threatening. Yet, if Xiao Yen could learn to make doves out of paper like that, she was certain she would be the luckiest girl in all of Bao Fang.
* * *
Even Xiao Yen recognized the shouted foreign word. “Dinner!” She crawled out of her tent and struggled to her feet, her legs still sore from her first day’s ride. The night was quiet. It was too early in the year for crickets or cicadas. An occasional wind stirred the winter leaves. Sounds of the river—gurgling water, quietly croaking toads—came from the wrong direction. Bao Fang, where Xiao Yen had grown up, sat west of the river Quang. For the first time, Xiao Yen was east of it.
Paper Mage Page 6