Paper Mage

by Leah R. Cutter

  “The mountain is easy to find. The dragon itself is harder. As a rat chews through wood, the rat dragon gnaws through rock. Men get lost in its tunnels and die of starvation before they reach the creature. Here, Aunt, let me help you.”

  Xiao Yen sprang to her feet as Young Lu started to rise. Xiao Yen took the tray with the dishes and put it on the front stair outside the door. Then she came back in and sat down again. She continued, saying, “The men who do find the beast say they can’t harm it. Mages, too, have failed to kill it. No one in the city knows what will harm it. Bei Xi started to tell me what would, but she was distracted before she could finish. I’m sure she didn’t mean to keep it a secret. She said, though, that the dragon could only be killed by words not written or spoken.”

  Udo snorted. “I can kill the dragon. That thing has never seen a man from my country before. You just need to get me a sword and shield. I’ll do the rest.”

  Xiao Yen was speechless in the face of his arrogance. Did he really think that little of Bei Xi’s warning? Of Young Lu’s information? Of the people in Khan Hua who had died trying to kill the beast?

  Young Lu sniffed with disdain. She didn’t understand Udo’s words, but his tone of voice conveyed his meaning clearly enough. She leaned over and said to Xiao Yen, “Are you sure you want to take him with you?”

  “Even a foreigner’s help is better than none,” Xiao Yen replied, hoping that it would be true.

  Young Lu pressed her lips together and said, “If you don’t want him to go with you, we can lie about where you’ve gone when you go.”

  “Thank you, Aunt,” Xiao Yen said, meaning it.

  “Do we go after the dragon tomorrow morning?” Udo asked.

  Xiao Yen translated, then replied, “I need to meditate on the puzzle Bei Xi gave me about the dragon before we go attack it. I don’t want to go in without some kind of plan.”

  “I’m all the plan you need,” Udo said, leaning away from the table.

  Xiao Yen ignored him. She turned to her aunt and asked, “What more can you tell me about Vakhtang?” Xiao Yen hadn’t asked many questions about Vakhtang. Though it was more important to stop him than to get to the rat dragon’s cave, she felt that she didn’t have to worry about him yet. She would be able to ask Young Lu more questions and make plans after she and Udo had the hairpin. Besides, Xiao Yen felt uneasy about what Bei Xi expected her to do to Vakhtang. Just one little scratch with the hairpin would dissolve the bubble around his heart. But would it kill him? Killing went against all Xiao Yen’s Buddhist teachings. She wasn’t sure she could kill a man, even with a small wound.

  “He lives in the governor’s compound. No one has seen the governor for months. It is said—”

  “What’s she saying?” Udo interrupted.

  Xiao Yen kept ignoring him.

  Young Lu continued. “He keeps a harem in the inner courtyard, some of Our Lady’s temple attendants—”

  “You’re plotting against me. You’re planning on attacking the dragon without me,” Udo said. “All of you are alike. You think you’re so superior. You don’t think a foreigner can do anything. You think we’re not human, not as good as you are. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of you!”

  How dare Udo say such things aloud? A civilized person showed their manners to others, not their emotions. Xiao Yen’s shame about Udo was matched by her shame about herself, because she had been thinking about leaving him behind.

  Young Lu stood stiffly, not waiting for Xiao Yen to translate Udo’s words. “Come, niece. Let’s leave the important lord to his plans.” She walked out the door, head held high.

  Xiao Yen rose as well. She walked to the door, then turned back.

  “My aunt and I talk about Vakhtang. Not the dragon.”

  Udo sneered at her. “But you had talked about leaving me behind.”

  Xiao Yen didn’t deny it. “The dragon is not only problem. Vakhtang—”

  “Is your problem. Not mine. I’m going to kill the dragon, and get its gold. Nothing more. Killing a lord in your country, well, as you’ve told me, I am a foreigner. I’d never make it back to my own land alive.”

  Xiao Yen opened her mouth, then closed it again. How could Udo be so selfish? The dragon wasn’t the important part of their duty. Vakhtang was. Without another word, she walked out the door.

  A cool night breeze ruffled through her hair. Above the walls of the compound she could see the stars. Master Wei had told her that identical points of light shone on the other side of the world, above the foreigners. In spite of similarities like that, Xiao Yen was certain Udo had come from someplace quite unknowable.

  The next morning, Xiao Yen rose early and went to the local dragon temple. It squatted on the southern edge of a lake, just to the west of Khan Hua. Thick red and blue clay tiles covered the curved roof, making it look twice as big as the rest of the building.

  The altar inside the temple was a simple thin table against one wall, with a clawed silver cup filled with pure water that the dragon could use, should it decide to manifest itself.

  Xiao Yen made her offering of incense and candles, then went outside to sit next to the lake. On the side nearest the city a group of screaming children played a game of ball. The object seemed to be to get as close to the water as possible without going in, and to make as much noise as possible while doing it. Xiao Yen went to the far side of the lake, away from the city and the children.

  She thought about the different ways one could say words—singing, shouting, whispering—but she knew Bei Xi had meant something else. Another idea, something linked to Bei Xi, tugged at Xiao Yen, but she couldn’t grasp it. If only Udo hadn’t interrupted. Bei Xi would have told her. She hadn’t meant it to be a mystery, Xiao Yen was certain. She rubbed the scar on her left hand and sighed.

  Finally, she pushed all her thoughts away, closed her eyes, and transported herself to her quiet place, a place that existed in her mind alone, beside a fast-running river, the moss on the banks softer than any pillows. Gentle winds caressed her cheeks, and the silence covered her with silky feathers.

  When Xiao Yen came back to the present, she opened her eyes and looked at the lake. While she’d had her eyes closed, an old man and a young boy had started fishing. The top of the old man’s head was bald—only a few wisps of white hair clung valiantly to the edges. His head was the color of old wood, lovingly polished. He wore a simple black jacket with loose-fitting gray pants.

  The young boy played by himself near the shore. He moved with a surety that told Xiao Yen he’d been walking for a couple of years, so maybe he was four or five. He built himself a pile of rocks next to the water’s edge and talked to it in an authoritative tone. Every once in a while, he’d pick up a stone and carry it over for the old man to see. The old man would pat the boy’s head, but he never said anything.

  The old man was lucky that day. Every other time he put his line in the water, a fish jumped on it. Xiao Yen was impressed. Several fish hung on his line by the time Xiao Yen decided to leave. She was about to stand up when the old man made a cawing noise, like a crow. The boy looked up. The old man gestured for him to come over.

  The old man held out his hand to the boy, silently asking for something. The boy undid a rope wrapped around his waist. The man tied a large, complicated knot at one end, followed by several simple knots. Then he tied a different knot, counted his fish, and tied that number of smaller knots.

  Xiao Yen grew very still. She watched the old man repeat the process for a different variety of fish he’d caught. Chicken flesh covered her back and went down her arms.

  It was so simple.

  The god Fu Xi, Bei Xi’s uncle, had given Xiao Yen’s people writing many centuries ago. Before they’d received this gift, her people had still had writing.

  They’d used knots. “Words neither spoken or written.” Xiao Yen remembered the knots adorning Fu Xi’s temple in Tan Yuan.

  That was why Bei Xi had been so insistent that Xiao Yen learn the knot magic.


  Xiao Yen wanted to shout with joy, to hear her voice echo over the water, to shake the dragon temple and wrap the old man and the young boy in warmth. Instead, she stood, bowed deeply to them, and started walking around the lake. She had to tell Udo.

  First she stopped at the dragon temple and lit three more sticks of incense. Maybe her luck was returning. Then she raced through the crowded city.

  The Lu family courtyard was quieter than the streets. The door to Udo’s room stood open. Xiao Yen went in. A fat old serving woman was opening the shutters over the window.

  “Where’s Udo?” Xiao Yen asked. The servant looked blank, so Xiao Yen added, “The tall foreigner with hair the color of wheat?”

  “Oh, miss,” the servant said, bowing several times. “He’s gone.”

  “Where did he go?” Xiao Yen asked, fearing that he’d offended Young Lu one too many times and had been asked to leave.

  The servant waddled over to Xiao Yen and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s gone to kill the rat dragon! Foreigners get into such strange moods, ah? No one can kill that dragon.” She bowed her head again to Xiao Yen and walked out the door.

  Xiao Yen’s elation drained out of her. She should have realized that Udo didn’t trust her, wouldn’t wait for her, and that he’d do something stupid like this. Now she had to find him, as well as face the rat dragon alone.

  Her luck hadn’t changed. It was still bad.

  * * *

  Xiao Yen watched enviously as Fat Fang’s cranes danced together in an intricate pattern on the table-top. If only she’d thought of that! He was certain to win the privilege of going into Bao Fang to see his family for five days. After being at school for four years, all trips into the city were a treat. At least, if he did win, he couldn’t accuse her of having all the luck. Xiao Yen almost smiled at the thought.

  Xiao Yen’s single crane stood tall in the corner, watching the dancing birds with disdain, preening its feathers now and again. Its thin head seemed to float at the end of its graceful neck, its chest curved like an inviting cushion, and the edges of its wings trailed behind it, like phoenix’s wings.

  Neither of Fat Fang’s cranes were as graceful as her crane. Their legs were as thin as a spider’s; both had chest feathers that protruded instead of lying flat; and their wings were shaped like sharp knives instead of graceful plumes. Plus, they were the size of roosters, not full sized, like Xiao Yen’s. On the other hand, there were two of them, and they interacted. Xiao Yen marveled at how well they danced together, weaving their necks faster and faster, wings spread out. They barely missed stepping on each other. It wasn’t the kind of crane dance she’d seen out in the wild, but it was just as beautiful.

  Fat Fang’s eyebrows almost touched each other as he scowled in concentration. Once a creature was animated, and had received its instructions, it had a will of its own. Only on rare occasions could a mage influence it after that. Fat Fang continued to stare at his cranes, as if the force of his will kept them dancing.

  Long Yen’s crane was no longer in the hall. He’d gone first in the contest. He’d never had control of his creature. It had flown in frightened circles over the courtyard before it had escaped. Determination now filled his usually happy face. He concentrated on Fat Fang, as if trying to wrest the secret of the two interacting birds from him by thought alone.

  Xiao Yen’s crane flapped its wings once, as if trying to get her attention. She looked over at it and sighed. She’d poured as much of her understanding of cranes as she could into her bird, filling its head with her observations of the birds. She’d let everything flow from herself into her crane, hoping to transfer enough essence that it would have its own life. It wouldn’t have a soul, as it was only a created creature. It could only have a soul if Xiao Yen placed her own soul in it—and she had neither the ability nor the will to do that.

  Her crane turned its head. Its dusky eyes bored into hers. Xiao Yen remembered watching the cranes dance by the river Quang in the golden morning sun. First one approached and bowed, then the other, like two officials meeting for the first time, each unsure of the other’s rank. Then they’d thrown their heads back, proclaiming their delight to the flock. They’d leapt together, in celebration of the light and the water and the joy of being alive.

  Now her crane tossed its head, as if beckoning her to join it. It moved its wings in a circular motion, fluffing its feathers, like a dancer stretching. It took two steps toward the table. Xiao Yen stood up, afraid that it might interfere with the other birds. She glanced over her shoulder at Master Wei. His whole attention was drawn to the birds dancing on the table. Xiao Yen walked to the corner.

  The crane’s eyes were at the same level as Xiao Yen’s and held greater wisdom than Wang Tie-Tie’s. Xiao Yen bowed to it, low. It bowed back, then leapt into the air. Xiao Yen’s heart leapt with it. The crane snaked its head down and pecked at her feet, forcing her to lift one foot, then the other. The crane met her gaze again and raised its wings.

  Xiao Yen hesitated. Master Wei wouldn’t approve. Fat Fang was sure to tease her about it. The yearning in her crane’s eyes tugged at Xiao Yen’s heart. She bowed her head, lifted her arms in response, and joined her creation, dancing.

  She didn’t dance like the crane did. She didn’t feel the beat it used. She moved her feet in time to her own sense of rhythm, swaying from side to side like the pine trees she’d observed, seeking grace. She wove her arms together, forming a ball, folding it and unfolding it into long strips of paper, echoing the poses Master Wei made them do every morning. The crane nodded its head in approval. For a moment, elation mingled with her sense of shame. She wasn’t doing the right thing, but at least her creature approved.

  The crane jumped and landed, then brought its wings close to its body and shuffled to its left. Xiao Yen moved as well, circling around so she stayed facing the crane.

  As if it were part of the dance, the crane bent its head down to the table, snapped up one of Fat Fang’s cranes, and tossed it out the open hall doors with a graceful flick of its head. It did the same to his other crane.

  Xiao Yen froze. She held both her hands over her mouth, horrified. What would Master Wei think? She didn’t dare meet his eyes. Where was her luck now? Her crane stepped forward, into their dance again. It snaked its head to either side of hers. Xiao Yen felt a slight sting on the back of her left hand, followed by the soft brush of feathers on her right.

  Xiao Yen’s cheeks flamed red with embarrassment. She flung her arms out, like a peasant woman shooing chickens. Her crane took a step backward, its gaze still locked on her eyes. Xiao Yen wished she could fly away and sport with clouds as white as her crane’s wings. Maybe her crane understood her. It threw its head back, exalting, then with three hopping steps, leapt for the door and headed for the sky.

  Xiao Yen turned around. Fat Fang had a surprised look on his face. Long Yen was smiling, and his eyes sparkled. Master Wei’s face held no emotion that Xiao Yen could read. He indicated with his hands that she should proceed with the end of the ritual.

  Xiao Yen walked to the table where her paper crane still stood. She picked it up with both hands, lifting the ashlike paper above her head, afraid her breath would disintegrate it. She carried it to the altar against the far wall.

  Hanging above the altar was an ink drawing of the immortal Zhang Gua Lao, the patron of all paper mages. He sat backward on his white paper donkey, holding a peach in his hand. Tied to his back was his long bamboo fish drum. Under the painting stood a silver brazier, filled with sand and ashes and the remains of several dozen sticks of incense. Xiao Yen placed the paper figure in the center of the brazier, then took a lit candle standing on the altar and set the mundane remains of her creation on fire. This freed the crane essence, sending it heavenward, with the smoke.

  She turned away, about to go sit down, then stopped. She reached back, put a finger in the ashes, then painted a dot in the center of her forehead, where her third eye was supposed to b
e, to show respect for her creation. Maybe she’d failed the test. Maybe her luck had failed her. Her crane hadn’t failed her. She sat down, keeping her gaze on her hands in her lap, the wonder of her crane’s dance vying with her shame.

  Master Wei walked from the far corner where he’d been observing the contest to the opposite side of the table. “A unique performance,” he said.

  Xiao Yen’s throat tightened and her stomach clenched. That was what Fu Be Be always said just before she punished Xiao Yen. “Unique” was a bad word, a brand of difference Xiao Yen had learned to hate. Her sister, Gan Ou, used it all the time to tease her.

  “I think we can all agree that Xiao Yen deserves the prize,” Master Wei continued.

  “What . . . ?” Fat Fang stopped himself. It was acceptable to question the master; however, the questions had to be phrased properly.

  “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t understand why you say I won,” Xiao Yen said, asking the question so Fat Fang wouldn’t lose more face.

  “There are three reasons why Xiao Yen should get the prize. Can any of you give me one of those reasons?” Master Wei said, his voice taking on its lesson tone.

  Long Yen laughed and said, “I can. She tossed Fat Fang’s birds out the door.”

  Xiao Yen kept her eyes on the table, still ashamed. How could that be a good thing? Fat Fang was her classmate.

  Master Wei said, “That’s right. She defeated the enemy, though I don’t believe it was intentional. Xiao Yen passed more wild spirit to her creature than she contains herself.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Xiao Yen.”

  She looked up.

  “You must remember that outside this school, mages are enemies, people you will have to fight, or at least defend against. I’ve only encountered a handful of mages in all my life, but I’ve had to battle every one of them.”

  Xiao Yen bit her lip, but didn’t respond. In the next phase of the school the students had to set their creatures against each other, to fight one another. Master Wei had already talked with Wang Tie-Tie about it. She’d approved. Fu Be Be had told Xiao Yen that fighting was bad. It wasn’t a thing girls did.