Paper Mage

by Leah R. Cutter

  “Vakhtang,” Bei Xi started, “is evil. He doesn’t want peace. He wants to use our blood for his wine, our souls for his meat, our children for his slaves. He must be stopped.” She paused. In the distance, Udo called Xiao Yen’s name. Bei Xi raised her eyebrows and asked, “Do you wish for me to let him find us?”

  “Not Ehran,” Xiao Yen blurted out.

  Bei Xi’s eyes took on a distant look. “He’s still at the camp.” She smiled a tight smile at Xiao Yen. “You must be careful of him. He doesn’t have the heart of a snake, but he can be as treacherous as one.”

  Xiao Yen remembered the time he found her in the woods. She felt the blush starting in her cheeks and spreading to her ears, but she looked straight back at Bei Xi.

  “My baby sister, Jhr Bei, had taken a special interest in the people from the north. She had many followers, temples dedicated to her alone, not just to our more famous brethren, Fu Xi and Nü-gua. She wanted to protect her people from the raids of the barbarian horsemen. She thought she could befriend Vakhtang, then use him and his soldiers as a barrier between the Middle Kingdom and the rest of the horsemen. We, her sisters, advised against it, but she wouldn’t listen to us. She thought Vakhtang was good. Vakhtang feared death—the price for his help was invulnerability. Jhr Bei created a bubble around his heart that protected him from all wounds.

  “What Jhr Bei didn’t realize was how great Vakhtang’s own magical ability had grown. He used his powers to corrupt her magic. The bubble was supposed to be powered by his own life force, but instead, he feeds it the essence of others. This makes the bubble too strong. It prevents him from having proper feelings. After he became invulnerable, he killed my sister, and used, still uses, her soul. There’s no hope of rebirth for her, for any of his victims, until he dies.” Bei Xi fell silent for a moment.

  Xiao Yen felt awe. How could Vakhtang kill a goddess? And use her soul? He must be very powerful.

  “Only something of the one who created the bubble can be used to dissolve it. Vakhtang destroyed everything of Jhr Bei’s, all her clothing, her jewelry, her combs, her shoes. But he missed one thing.

  “Centuries before, a rat stole one of Jhr Bei’s hairpins, and gave it in homage to the king of the rats, the rat dragon. This dragon still has the hairpin. It’s the only thing that can harm Vakhtang. It just needs to break his skin, a single little scratch.”

  Xiao Yen was surprised that such a small act could do so much damage.

  Bei Xi continued. “The first task is to get the hairpin from the dragon. This beast,” she warned, “can only be killed by words not spoken or written.”

  Before Xiao Yen could ask Bei Xi to explain herself, Udo joined them. His upturned face shone with wonder and fear. Bei Xi addressed him for a minute, speaking faster than Xiao Yen could understand. He asked many questions. Finally he turned to Xiao Yen and asked, “She’s good?”

  Xiao Yen said, “She’s a goddess. We, respect—bài—her.”

  “Worship,” Bei Xi said, still smiling.

  “Her people gave my people writing, houses, music, marriage, poetry, all that makes my people my people.” Xiao Yen paused. “Is she good? She does good, but she also plays, like all people,” Xiao Yen said, trying hard to make the distinction that Bei Xi was herself, not goodness incarnate like Kuan Yin, the goddess of mercy.

  Udo seemed satisfied, so Bei Xi explained to him about Vakhtang, the hairpin, and the rat dragon.

  “This dragon,” Udo said. “Does it have much silver?”

  Bei Xi replied, “Yes. Heaping piles of it. Its lair is full of tunnels and it guards them jealously. Many men have died for only a few handfuls of coins.”

  Udo bobbed his head and looked pleased.

  Bei Xi went on. “Vakhtang doesn’t know of the hairpin. He believes he is safe. So now, he is growing bold. He plans to invade the Middle Kingdom. This is why the King of Heaven let me return, to stop Vakhtang. Now I must petition the King of Heaven again, for him to change me into human form again, and let me return. I don’t know how long that will take. Whether I will be allowed to return in a day or a year. Time moves differently in the Heavenly Pavilion.”

  Bei Xi unwound her tail a little and grew taller. “Little Sister, you pledged yourself to my aid.”

  “Vakhtang must be stopped,” Xiao Yen said, forcing each word out. It was her duty, both to her people, and to Bei Xi, to stop him. It was her only chance for redemption after ruining Bei Xi’s plans. And all it would take was one small scratch.

  “I’ll help too,” Udo said.

  Xiao Yen looked at him, surprised. He stood like a soldier, his chest out, hands behind his back, legs solidly under him.

  More shouts came through the woods. Bei Xi said, “My guard. Gi Tang. He’s one of Vakhtang’s soldiers. He did not know of my deception. He cannot report to Vakhtang before you get there.”

  Udo nodded. “Ehran will take care of him.”

  Xiao Yen wondered at Udo. He said it with such finality. Xiao Yen remembered that Ehran had killed a man before. She was struck again by the image of Ehran fondling the hilt of the knife on his belt. She shivered and blamed the cool night air for her chicken skin.

  “Vakhtang now makes Khan Hua, the next city, his capital. It’s only two days north of here.”

  Xiao Yen blinked. Wang Tie-Tie’s youngest sister lived in Khan Hua. Maybe her aunt would be able to help them in their task.

  “And the dragon?” Udo asked, leaning forward on the balls of his feet.

  Bei Xi smiled broadly. “Many people in the city can direct you to it.” She glanced skyward for a moment, as if she’d heard a distant call. “The time I was allowed here is gone. I must go.” She bowed to them, bending at her human waist, lowering herself with her tail. Then she rose like a pillar of white smoke and ascended to the sky. Like a comet she went across the night, blazing east, where the King of Heaven sat, with all his court.

  Xiao Yen watched until Bei Xi’s trail disappeared. It was a beautiful flight, like an ageless white bird flying free across the sky. When the glow trickled away, she felt her heart return to her body with a thud. Her burden felt like piles of stones on her shoulders. Why was she so unlucky?

  Udo said, “Come. We have work to do.” He almost smiled at her, but not quite.

  Xiao Yen followed him blindly back to the camp.

  * * *

  “My father pays a string of coins every week for my studies,” Fat Fang confided in Long Yen. They walked ahead of Xiao Yen on the wide dirt road. Master Wei was taking his students on a field trip to study animals in nature. Predawn clouds stretched sketchy orange fingers across the sky as they walked toward the altar of the river dragon. The river Quang ran gray and quiet.

  Xiao Yen didn’t care for Fat Fang’s tone of voice. He was up to something. His smile was always the same serene Buddha-like smirk, but he wasn’t as good as Gan Ou at faking a sincere tone.

  Fat Fang continued. “And I know your father pays about the same,” he told Long Yen. “And how much does your father pay, Xiao Yen?” he asked over his shoulder.

  Xiao Yen didn’t know how much Wang Tie-Tie paid, but she was certain it wasn’t as much as anyone else. Not because of any generosity from Master Wei, but because Wang Tie-Tie was the best bargainer Xiao Yen had ever seen.

  After a moment, Xiao Yen replied to Fat Fang, “My family supports my schooling.” She hoped to imply that many people supporting her were better than a single parent.

  Fat Fang spoke reassuringly. “I’m sure they do. Isn’t Master Wei a charitable person?” he asked of no one in particular.

  Xiao Yen knew she shouldn’t take offense, but he was disparaging Wang Tie-Tie, and she couldn’t stand that.

  “At least I’m here because of my skill, not because some official bribed my way.”

  Fat Fang shot her a mean look, his mouth cross, his chin pointing and hard. “I have just as much skill as you do.”

  Xiao Yen replied, “Maybe, but did Master Wei ask your family to send you
to his school? Like he asked for me?”

  Fat Fang stopped and stared at Xiao Yen.

  Xiao Yen glared back.

  “You were just lucky, a girl doing men’s work,” Fat Fang said. He paused. “Maybe you’re always lucky.” His serene Buddha smile reappeared. “At least I’m continuing in school because of my skill, not through sheer luck.”

  Xiao Yen’s cheeks grew warm in the cool morning air. How dare he accuse her of being in school only because of her luck? Yet a tiny voice deep inside her questioned if he might be right.

  Before she could think of a reply. Long Yen stepped between them, laughing.

  “Stop bickering like old hens,” he said. He pushed Fat Fang in the direction they’d been walking. “You know Master Wei will be angry if he has to wait for us.”

  “You’re right,” Fat Fang said. “Though we are with lucky Xiao Yen. If we walk too slowly, Master Wei will have gotten a pebble in his shoe, and will also be going slowly,” he said, linking his arm through Long Yen’s and walking forward.

  Long Yen glanced back at Xiao Yen. He raised his eyebrows in a helpless look, then winked at her.

  Xiao Yen gave him a small smile in return. Her smile fell when he turned away.

  Was Fat Fang right? Things like that did happen to her. She’d be late for dinner on the one day dinner was delayed, or she’d accidentally tear the creature she was folding at the same time Master Wei discovered the paper was inferior. These incidents were as natural to her as breathing. She’d always been lucky.

  Did that mean she had no skill? No, of course not. She was building skill in folding. Her aching shoulders attested to that. Plus, an important part of paper magic was being able to imagine things, and everyone always told her she had a good imagination. She reassured herself she’d passed her first exam, and the others since then, with more than just luck.

  A kernel of doubt remained.

  Xiao Yen unbent her left knee, lifting her foot from the earth until it was halfway between the ground and her waist. Then she bent her knee again, while at the same time she folded her right hip joint and brought her left arm across her chest. Xiao Yen tried to keep her mind empty as she moved, folding and unfolding her limbs like Master Wei had taught them. This morning the master and his students flowed through the poses, one melting into another. Sometimes Master Wei had them stop and hold a pose while paying attention to their breath and their qi. Xiao Yen felt more comfortable in the folded poses, with her qi surrounding her like a soft blue cocoon. Fat Fang and Long Yen both did better in the unfolded poses, with their qi stretched out, vibrant and red.

  Master Wei continually stressed how important the qi was, and the interaction between it and the life force. Xiao Yen paid attention when Master Wei talked, but he used complex philosophical terms she didn’t understand. It took her months to fully grasp some concepts. She hoped that someday she’d understand all the nuances Master Wei took for granted.

  Only by transferring energies could she animate a paper creation. That was the fundamental nature of all magic—imbuing artifacts with just the right amount of life force. Anyone could fold a pretty crane. But to make it fly . . .

  For the first three years of their schooling, Master Wei had only let his students fold creatures. They’d also spent much of their time poring over paintings of animals, insects, and landscapes by famous artists, or reading poems about them, trying to discover the essence of each animal or insect. At the start of their fourth year, he’d taught them how to animate small creatures, like ants or centipedes. Xiao Yen excelled at all her studies. It was easier for her than the boys. She didn’t have any friends, no one to talk with, nothing to do but study all the time. The younger students wouldn’t socialize with her. Xiao Yen couldn’t say she was used to being alone because she still always felt lonely. Even with all of Wang Tie-Tie’s training, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the loneliness.

  Xiao Yen brought her hands together, palm to palm, in the final gesture. She bent her head in thanks for the morning, the clear air, the connections she felt with river, the rocks, the birds singing in the trees behind her, the trees themselves.

  Master Wei led them to the eight-sided pavilion that held the altar of the river dragon. The pavilion’s gray-tiled roof curved gracefully at the corners, supported by round, red-lacquered poles. Green planks ran at waist level between the pillars, perfect for leaning against and watching the river. The altar of the river dragon was a long and skinny table, covered with a red silk, embroidered cloth. A silver brazier stood in the center of the altar, holding sand and the remains of hundreds of sticks of incense.

  Master Wei knelt and bowed to the altar. His students did the same behind him. After praying for a while, he reached into his sleeves and pulled out five perfectly folded doves made out of dazzling white paper. He arranged them on either side of the altar, then concentrated, head bowed. Little balls of fog covered the five paper birds.

  After a moment, the fog melted away and live doves appeared. The birds stood at attention, like soldiers, looking to Master Wei for instructions. As one, they bobbed their heads, wheeled, and took off. They flew in an arrow formation, sunwise, around the pavilion three times, then headed for the river. Again they spiraled, the sun reflecting off their brilliant white feathers. One by one they dove into the river, passing into the water as swiftly and silently as knives.

  Master Wei produced another stiff piece of paper and gathered up the ashes of the paper birds still standing on the altar. He held it up above his head as he left the pavilion and walked to the river. With a graceful bow, he poured the ashes into the river, saying, “Please accept my most humble offering. I hope the birds find their way to your court and delight you with their flying.”

  Without turning around, Master Wei addressed his students. “Tell me about the birds.”

  Xiao Yen hid her grin. Master Wei was always a teacher, even when he was paying respect to a dragon. Master Wei wanted his students to be acute observers, not just when they studied, but all the time. They never knew when he’d turn to them and say, “Describe what you’ve just seen.” It was like a game he played with them.

  Xiao Yen blessed Wang Tie-Tie again for all the long hours of storytelling she’d made Xiao Yen do in the Garden of Sweet Scents. How could Wang Tie-Tie have known that keen observation was such an important part of being a paper mage?

  Fat Fang started, describing the scales on the birds’ feet, a detail Xiao Yen hadn’t noticed. Long Yen described how their wings didn’t start close to the birds’ necks, but farther down, like shoulders, and how the wing feathers overlaid the tail.

  Xiao Yen’s heart sank down to her ankles. She didn’t know what to add. The boys had described the birds completely. She couldn’t dredge another detail about them from her memory. She wished she had more time to remember. Before the silence dragged on too long, she described the birds’ flight, commenting on how they’d entered the water silently, without a ripple.

  Master Wei turned around at her description. Xiao Yen didn’t meet his eye, afraid of a reprimand. She hadn’t described the physical birds at all.

  “Exactly!” he said, startling her, making her look up. “Why is that detail so important?”

  Xiao Yen looked at him blankly. She glanced at Long Yen. His face held the same look. Fat Fang turned to look at her. Silently he mouthed the word, “Luck.”

  Xiao Yen tried to concentrate on Master Wei’s explanation of mundane and magic—how a magical creature couldn’t affect the world around it, while a mundane creature couldn’t affect magic. As the dragon was a magical creature, it was proper to send him magical doves, rather than earthly ones.

  When Master Wei finished his lecture, he turned and walked up the river path. Fat Fang and Long Yen followed him closely. Xiao Yen also stayed close for a time, then she fell back, thinking.

  It wasn’t fair of Fat Fang to accuse her of being lucky. It was like accusing her of having black hair, or dark eyes. It wasn’t something
she consciously used. It was a part of who she was.

  Yes, Master Wei had met her by chance, and she’d shown him her imagination through luck. But she hadn’t stayed in school because of her luck. She also worked hard. It was just so unfair.

  What would happen to her if she lost her luck? Xiao Yen swallowed hard. She reached up with her right hand to touch her amulet, to reassure herself it was still there.

  Master Wei and the boys walked out of sight, beyond the next curve in the river path. Xiao Yen decided to find out how lucky she was. She wasn’t going to follow them. She was going to stop here, and see if Master Wei became furious with her or if something would happen. She sat down on the river side, plucking long brown stems of grass and throwing them like spears into the river.

  Nothing happened.

  Xiao Yen couldn’t see anything moving, not fish nor birds, not even ants. It was worse than sitting in the Garden of Sweet Scents, waiting for Wang Tie-Tie. Then she remembered Wang Tie-Tie saying, “If you grasp opportunity as it passes, you don’t need lucky dreams.” Maybe she wasn’t as lucky as Fat Fang had said.

  What would happen when Master Wei came back and found her sitting looking at nothing? Xiao Yen didn’t want her teacher to be angry at her. He was a good man. He rarely yelled at his students and he never beat them. Maybe she shouldn’t test her luck. It didn’t seem to be holding, anyway.

  She stood up, brushed off the seat of her pants, and started walking again. Maybe her luck couldn’t come on demand. It was good to know. She was lucky, but it wasn’t something she could use for cheating. She was in school because of her skill, not because of her luck, no matter what Fat Fang said.

  A trumpeting sound split the air.

  Xiao Yen stopped. Only one bird made a call like that. She looked up and caught her breath. Seven cranes came out of the sunrise, heading straight for the marsh in front of her. The cranes rarely came this far inland, preferring to stick to the coast, where they were assured of water. She stayed as still as when holding a pose for Master Wei, hoping the birds wouldn’t see her.