Paper Mage

by Leah R. Cutter

  As she turned it, feeling the ridges under her fingers, she found a loose end. She tugged at it. The ball unraveled. Bit by bit, she unfolded it, tugging at it like dough. It grew in her hands to the size of a small blanket. She smoothed it and pressed it flat until it flowed like silk. Then Xiao Yen wrapped the gold around herself, letting it smother her in luck and fortune and all good things as she picked herself up and drifted to her room to sleep.

  * * *

  Xiao Yen walked around the medicinal stele, marveling. Cures for at least a hundred ailments were carved on its sides. It was made of pale gray river rock, tall as a foreigner, and wide enough that she’d have to stretch to put her arms around it. The governor of Tan Yuan had placed seven medicinal pillars around the city’s marketplace so that all people could get the same reliable treatment and live healthy lives.

  Xiao Yen didn’t see a cure for her problem written on the stele, but she knew what to do. All the tales she’d heard from Ama had taught her. The way to force Bei Xi back into her original fox-fairy form was to sprinkle sulfur in a circle around her.

  Xiao Yen left the marketplace and headed toward the apothecary. She felt sad. Bei Xi had been so nice to Xiao Yen, teaching her the foreigners’ language, and some of the northern barbarians’ language as well. Plus, Bei Xi had paid for Xiao Yen’s services, so contractually, Bei Xi was Xiao Yen’s responsibility. However, Xiao Yen had originally only been hired to protect the foreign brothers, and Bei Xi was draining the life out of Ehran. Xiao Yen couldn’t let her continue. Even if she thought Ehran deserved it.

  Xiao Yen recognized the apothecary shop by the sign of the toad squatting on the compass. She also could have found the shop by the smell: the bitter herbs, sweet flowers, and incense all mingled with something that caught at the top of Xiao Yen’s throat and dried it out.

  Xiao Yen entered the shop and made her way to the counter at the back. A stout glass jar filled with thick red liquid and three floating geckos sat to one side. Strings of dried crab shells and squids hung above the counter. To the right of the counter hung a snakeskin. The body of the snake curled upon itself, forming a small nest, while the head stretched out, almost as if the snake had woken from a nap and was in search of food. The skin hung on thin wires and moved with the slightest breeze, as if it were alive.

  “May I help you?” A skeletal man with dark, sunken eyes and pale skin came from behind the curtain separating the back from the front. His long neck and bony frame gave the impression of great height.

  “I need some sulfur,” Xiao Yen said, not giving the man her entire attention, staring instead at a thin bamboo cage containing hundreds of dried crickets.

  The apothecary quoted a price. Xiao Yen continued to look around the shop. Her distracted pose was a bargaining ploy. If the merchant didn’t think she was that interested, he’d drop the price more readily. Eventually, she responded with a price less than a third of the one the merchant had started with. They bargained. Xiao Yen threatened to leave the shop. Finally, they settled on a price, a little less than half the one originally stated.

  Wang Tie-Tie had taught Xiao Yen how to bargain. Even Fu Be Be said Wang Tie-Tie was the best bargainer in the family. Xiao Yen had asked her aunt about it one afternoon, after watching her negotiate three pairs of shoes for the price of one. Wang Tie-Tie had said something about how if she didn’t bargain hard, her husband would take every wasted penny out of her skin. After seeing the brand on her arm that day in the Garden of Sweet Scents, Xiao Yen wondered if Wang Tie-Tie had meant it literally.

  The apothecary stepped into a back room to get Xiao Yen’s purchase, and came back carrying a small bag. The sulfur was so strong, she could smell it when he got close to the counter.

  “Here’s your yellow fluid,” the apothecary said. While Xiao Yen dug coins out of her bag, he asked, “Do you have a cold?” Sulfur was often used in an infusion to treat colds around the waist and kidneys.

  Xiao Yen grinned at him and lied. “No. A mother-in-law.”

  He laughed. Mother-in-laws were notorious for finding fault with new brides. In more than one market tale, particularly evil mother-in-laws were discovered to be foxes in disguise.

  “Maybe you should go to Ba Long’s, the dragon temple, then. There’s an altar there dedicated to Fu Xi and his wife Nü-gua.”

  Fu Xi was well known as the architect of all society. He’d invented fishing, farming, as well as writing. Nü-gua was known to come to the aid of hard-pressed heroes. Fu Xi and his wife Nü-gua were generally shown as human from the waist up, their bodies facing away from each other, while their lower snake halves intertwined.

  Xiao Yen thanked him and asked directions to the temple. It was only three streets away. Xiao Yen bought incense from one of the sellers just outside the temple gate. Inside the complex, the main building across from the gate was dedicated to Ba Long, the city’s dragon.

  A smaller building stood to the right. Painted knots covered the façade. Before Fu Xi had brought writing to Xiao Yen’s people, they’d communicated using knots. Considering the steles in the marketplace, Xiao Yen wasn’t surprised that the scholarly aspects of the god and goddess were worshiped here in Tan Yuan.

  Inside, the temple was dark, lit by only a few candles. Three different aspects of the pair hung above the altar. The center scroll had the traditional representation of the pair painted on it. To the left hung a scroll with Nü-gua standing in front of a group of beings who all looked like her, with snake bottom halves and human tops. Each held a different item, representing the things the goddess had given to humanity: different instruments, like the flute and mouth organ, to represent music; rocks and swords, to represent smelting; compasses and maps, to represent navigation. To the right hung a similar scroll, showing Fu Xi and his contributions: a square measure, fishing rods, plows, pens, paper and ink.

  Xiao Yen lit her incense and placed five sticks, representing the compass points, in the brazier under the painting for Fu Xi. She placed the traditional three sticks in the center brazier, under the traditional painting. Then she placed the rest, a lucky eight, in the remaining brazier for Nü-gua. Xiao Yen knelt and prayed for a long while. Since she had no luck, she needed all the help she could get.

  Xiao Yen examined her crane in the flickering candlelight. Its beak looked sharp enough to pluck out the eyes of a fox. Its wings flowed from its body, its neck and legs followed classic lines. Its splayed feet held the ground solidly. Master Wei would be proud of her. It was an artifact worthy of its own life, if only for a short while.

  Would it be good enough to affect a fox fairy? She hoped so. As fairies were magic, not mundane, her magic was probably strong enough to affect them, but she wasn’t certain.

  She tucked the crane into the sleeve of her jacket, blew out her candle, and took a deep breath, breathing in the stillness of the night air. An owl hooted above her head. The moon hadn’t risen yet, so there was little light. Trees whispered to each other in the evening breeze. A few crickets chirped in the high grass. The rich taste of the campfire came to her, carried on the wind.

  Xiao Yen sighed and made herself get up. She had to do this. She had to save Ehran from Bei Xi, even though every time he smiled at her, she shivered. It was her duty. Besides, he looked so pale and ill, she doubted he could hurt her. Though Udo joked about tying Ehran to his saddle so he wouldn’t fall off, Xiao Yen heard the worry in Udo’s voice. Maybe Udo was a foreigner, but he felt responsible for his little brother, just like siblings from her people did. Realizing this had made Xiao Yen like Udo a little more.

  She heard the three of them laughing, like a cheerful chorus of bells in the night.

  Waist-high bushes grew between the dark tree trunks. Xiao Yen blundered into more than one as she walked back to the camp. When she drew close enough to see by the fire’s light, she stopped and studied the area. Bei Xi stood between Ehran and Udo on the far side of the fire. Gi Tang sat about a quarter of the way around, involved in a game of dice with the trail
guide.

  As quietly as she could, Xiao Yen circled around the fire until she was behind Bei Xi. Her heart beat hard in her chest, as if she’d just walked up a steep hill in midsummer heat. Sweat trickled down her side, and instantly cooled in the evening air. She reached into her sleeve, pulled out the bag of sulfur, and untied the knot. Her hands were steady. She smiled grimly. No matter what, her hands rarely shook. Master Wei had seen to that. At least the wind was blowing in her direction, so her scent wasn’t carried to the group.

  Xiao Yen crept closer behind Bei Xi. When the wind stopped for a moment, she threw some of the powder on the back of Bei Xi’s legs.

  “Wha—?” was all Bei Xi said before she froze.

  Xiao Yen yelled, “Ehran. Udo. Move back!” Xiao Yen walked counter-sunwise around Bei Xi, sprinkling the sulfur on the ground as she walked, making a circle of powder around the courtesan. When she finished, she still had a little powder in the bottom of her bag, so she flung the remains on the fronts of Bei Xi’s legs.

  Bei Xi stood frozen, like a statue carved from white jade. Her mouth formed a perfect “O.” Her eyes stared unblinking, like two dark almonds. She held her arms in front of her, as if to catch herself from a fall. She still looked impossibly beautiful.

  Xiao Yen had been right. A real human wouldn’t have reacted to the sulfur at all.

  Ehran and Udo stood on either side of Bei Xi, amazement in their faces, and fear. She heard Gi Tang come up from behind, but he didn’t try to stop her. Xiao Yen told the brothers again, “Move back.” Then she took her crane out of her sleeve, placed it on the ground, and concentrated on animating it.

  The fire cast a rosy glow on her paper bird, like light from the setting sun. Xiao Yen imagined the shadows under its wings growing longer, wider. The fire crackled. Xiao Yen imagined a happy bird picking up its feet and dancing to the sound. The sweat on her forehead cooled with a sudden breeze. Xiao Yen saw the same breeze ruffling the snow white feathers of a large crane.

  When it turned its golden eyes to her, Xiao Yen filled them with one image, the face of Bei Xi. Her lovely curved cheeks, her small sharp nose, her perfect teeth. The crane dipped its head several times, then turned, its wings outspread.

  Bei Xi was still frozen when Xiao Yen first looked up. The crane walked stiff legged in a circle around her. Abruptly, Bei Xi blinked, lowered her arms to her sides, and finished the “O” with the barest whisper. Her legs glowed and shimmered, as if being viewed through a heavy rain. A deep bell-like tone sounded once. Udo and Ehran stepped back, aware that something magical was going on.

  Xiao Yen waited, expecting Bei Xi’s fox tail to appear between her legs. Maybe her luck was changing. She rubbed at the scar on the back of her left hand. Her crane flexed its wings a couple of times, like a wrestler warming up before a match.

  A tail never appeared. Instead, Bei Xi’s legs fused together into a single white snake’s tail.

  Then she started growing. Her head shot up toward the trees. The snake tail ended at Bei Xi’s waist, while her human half grew more beautiful than before. Her tail glittered like wet fish scales. A pearly white glow emanated from her human half, illuminating the shock and horror on Ehran and Udo’s faces.

  Bei Xi’s eyes grew large and liquid, like a horse’s eyes. She loomed above their heads like a living statue.

  The pose was familiar to Xiao Yen. She placed her hands over her mouth. That afternoon. In the temple. Why hadn’t she seen the likeness before? Bei Xi resembled Nü-gua, the goddess who had brought so many advances to the Middle Kingdom. Xiao Yen’s stomach lurched.

  Before Xiao Yen could stop her crane, it pecked at Bei Xi’s tail. Bei Xi gave Xiao Yen a look of anger that shot straight into her heart. Then Bei Xi broke through the sulfur circle and hurried into the woods, the crane leaping from one foot to the other as it followed her, pecking at her tail as it disappeared into the brush.

  Xiao Yen was the first to break out of her frozen stance. She ran in the same direction Bei Xi had gone. Udo grabbed her arm and stopped her. Even in the fire glow, Ehran’s face looked deathly white. Udo’s, on the other hand, was red, as if he were blushing.

  “Why are you following her?” he asked.

  The tone of his voice told Xiao Yen his cheeks were red in anger. Her stomach fell further. He had every right to be angry with her. She’d failed, ruined everything.

  “It isn’t safe,” he continued, no longer glaring at her, but at Ehran. Maybe he wasn’t angry with her. Maybe he was angry with his brother.

  “I have to help, see if Bei Xi needs help,” she said, knowing how ineffective her words sounded. Bei Xi didn’t need her help.

  “Why would you help that—that—monster?” Udo was shouting at her now.

  How could he call Bei Xi a monster? Like some horrible animal that lived on human blood, as Bei Xi had translated the term for her? Abruptly, she understood. Udo was a foreigner. His land had never been civilized by Fu Xi and Nü-gua. He didn’t know Bei Xi’s heritage.

  “Bei Xi is goddess, sister to goddess Nü-gua,” Xiao Yen explained patiently. “She is good. Not evil. I must go, I must”—Xiao Yen searched for the foreign words—“say I’m sorry.”

  She yanked her arm out of Udo’s grasp, turned, and ran into the woods. She heard Udo coming after her.

  At first, Xiao Yen ran blindly. Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she followed the white glow of Bei Xi. The goddess didn’t make the trail easy. Xiao Yen stumbled on unseen tree roots. Bushes snagged her clothes. Low branches pulled her hair. The still air of the woods didn’t cool her sweat. The unearthly point of light always seemed on the verge of disappearing. It was like a nightmare. Bei Xi played with Xiao Yen, just as she’d played with Ehran. Xiao Yen followed determinedly.

  Xiao Yen tried not to think of the consequences of her actions as she ran. She’d exposed a goddess, forced her to take non-human shape. There was probably a special hell reserved for people like her. Xiao Yen fell again. Her palms burned as they slid across the earth. Her knees hurt from the rocks they landed on. Xiao Yen rested for a moment, her head hanging down, trying to catch her breath. She smelled dry leaves. She wanted to lie down in a soft pile of them, forget her shame, her duty. But she couldn’t.

  She forced herself to stand and follow the wavering light.

  The point of light grew to a slim column. Bei Xi had stopped. Xiao Yen rubbed her stinging palms together, wiping off some of the dirt. She tugged on her braids, smoothing them as best as she could, then tried to flatten the hair on top of her head. It was hopeless. Ends stuck up in every direction. There was no time to rebraid her hair now. The goddess was waiting.

  Xiao Yen stepped out of the woods and into the clearing. Bei Xi waited at the far edge. She glowed like a small moon that had come to earth, turning the meadow grass into a silvery lake. Xiao Yen hurried across the clearing, keeping her arms at her sides, her palms out, so Bei Xi could see she didn’t carry any weapons or paper defense.

  Though Bei Xi’s tail curled under her, her face was far above Xiao Yen’s. Her body had grown larger. Just from the waist up she was taller than Udo. Her curves had grown more pronounced, more feminine. Though her arms were as thick as Xiao Yen’s waist, they floated gracefully at her sides. Her eyebrows soared above her eyes, more lovely than a crane’s wings. Her nose was still sharp, like a point of beauty. Her eyes held ancient suffering, passed down from the earth itself. They filled Xiao Yen’s heart with sorrow. At the same time, they were beautiful, like black pearls.

  “Oh, Great One,” Xiao Yen said. She knelt on the ground and placed her forehead on the cool earth. “Please forgive me. Please accept my most humble apology. I—”

  “Xiao Yen,” Bei Xi interrupted, “stand up.”

  Xiao Yen stood. She couldn’t control the trembling in her knees.

  “Please gaze upon my face,” Bei Xi said.

  Xiao Yen raised her head, then looked up, and looked up some more. Her head tilted almost all the way back before she could see
Bei Xi’s face.

  Bei Xi’s lovely tinkling laugh settled like rain on Xiao Yen’s shoulders. “You can take two steps back.”

  Xiao Yen obediently took two steps back.

  “Little Sister—may I call you Little Sister?”

  Xiao Yen gulped, not trusting her voice at being given such an honor. She hoped Bei Xi understood her silence for assent.

  “You were fulfilling your duty. This is right. You were protecting your clients. Maybe I shouldn’t have, ah, played with them. I was protecting you, as well. I thought if Ehran were distracted . . . But now, how am I supposed to stop Vakhtang?” Bei Xi added, almost to herself.

  “I’m so sorry,” Xiao Yen said, breaking in. “It’s all my fault. I should have kept my suspicions to myself. I—”

  “No, Xiao Yen. You did the right thing. How could you know that there were plans within plans? I should have taken you into my confidence. It was easy to fool the foreigners—what do they know of our land, of our people? They wouldn’t suspect anything. But you would. I sincerely apologize, Little Sister, for not speaking directly to you,” Bei Xi said, bowing slightly to Xiao Yen.

  “No, it is I who must apologize,” Xiao Yen said, bowing deeply in return.

  “Now that we are both equally sorry,” Bei Xi said seriously, though there was still laughter shining in her eyes, “I need to tell you my plans, and beg for your assistance.”

  “Anything.” Xiao Yen breathed the word out, as if pledging her whole self to the unheard proposal. “I would consider it an honor if I can help you in even the smallest way.”

  “But what of your duty, the brothers . . . ?” Bei Xi asked.

  “They’re foreigners,” Xiao Yen replied. “My duty lies with helping”—Xiao Yen paused, then continued—“you and your kind.” She didn’t want to call Bei Xi a goddess to her face. It seemed impolite, somehow.

  Bei Xi thought for a moment, then acquiesced.

  Xiao Yen drew her first comfortable breath. At last, she’d done something right.