“Fat Fang?” Master Wei asked.
The sullen boy didn’t reply.
“No idea?” Master Wei continued. “The second reason is because the crane interacted with Xiao Yen. She’s mundane, it is magic. Your cranes interacted with each other, which is good, but there’s a tremendous difference between magic interacting with magic, versus magic interacting with the mundane.”
“It doesn’t count!” Fat Fang said.
Master Wei looked puzzled.
Fat Fang rushed to explain. “She created the creature. Maybe she had planned it, planned the dance, so it wasn’t reacting to her, she was reacting to it!”
Master Wei pursed his lips. “That’s possible, except for one thing. Xiao Yen’s crane also reached the third, highest level. It affected the mundane world. Only the strongest mages can animate creatures like that. Xiao Yen transferred enough essence to give her creature its own, individual life force.”
Master Wei reached out and took Xiao Yen’s left hand in his, forcing her to look at it. A scratch with beaded blood went across the back of it. It didn’t hurt. It took her a moment to realize where it had come from. When the crane had passed its head next to her cheeks. The remembered feeling of silk feathers.
Master Wei lifted Xiao Yen’s hand, making her stand and walk to the altar. He dipped his fingers into the ashes and coated the cut. The stinging brought sudden tears to Xiao Yen’s eyes.
Master Wei held her hand up and examined it. “I want you to cover that with cloth for ten days. You will develop a small scar on the back of your hand, a reminder of your first day as a paper mage.”
Xiao Yen swallowed hard around the sudden lump in her throat. Master Wei had only called them “students” before. He’d never referred to any of them as “mages.” Amazement flooded through her, along with joy. She was sure her happiness was strong enough to carry her to the moon and beyond.
Xiao Yen had to knock at Master Wei’s door a second time before he responded. She let herself in and looked around with curiosity. Though she’d been at the school for four years, she’d never been in Master Wei’s private quarters before.
The room was attached to the back of the Hall of Receiving, as long as the hall but skinny. Shelves holding a menagerie of paper creatures filled one long wall: lions, bears, dragons, snakes, elephants, mice, horses, and creatures Xiao Yen couldn’t name. Squeezed between the shelves were windows. In the far corner on the left sat Master Wei’s bed. A small fireplace was set in the wall next to the head of the bed. Xiao Yen was envious—he must be warm in the winter, while her building caught every cold wind that came from the west. Closer to the door stood a large desk covered with piles of papers. Master Wei sat behind the desk, still reading.
When Master Wei looked up from his papers, his eyes bored into hers. Xiao Yen felt like dissolving under the intensity of his gaze. She knew he didn’t like her to be timid though, so she folded her hands behind her back, stood up straight and said, “You asked me to come see you before I leave for Bao Fang, sir.”
“What are you going to do when you graduate, Xiao Yen?” Master Wei asked, almost to himself. “Well?” he said after a moment’s silence.
“Get hired as a paper mage?” Xiao Yen asked. That’s what Wang Tie-Tie had told her she would do when she graduated. And anything Wang Tie-Tie wanted, she got.
“I wonder,” Master Wei said. He stroked his thin scholar’s beard and leaned back in his chair. “Who will hire you?”
Xiao Yen replied, “I don’t know, sir. But, my Wang Tie-Tie, she—”
Master Wei interrupted. “They say old ginger is the sharpest, but Wang Tie-Tie is sharper still. She’s strong enough to browbeat anyone into doing her bidding. But will there be a second commission after the first? Or a third? Xiao Yen,” he said, then hesitated. “We have to work on your fighting skills.”
Xiao Yen blurted out, “Fu Be Be says girls shouldn’t fight.”
Master Wei replied, “Your mother doesn’t think you should be here, does she?”
Xiao Yen pressed her lips together and didn’t answer. Wang Tie-Tie always said to wear your broken arm inside your sleeve. Telling your problems to people outside your family never solved anything.
“Xiao Yen, what do you want to do?” Master Wei asked.
“To do my duty,” she responded, as she’d been taught. She didn’t see any other choice.
“Your duty to your family, Xiao Yen? Or your duty to yourself.”
Master Wei didn’t ask that as a question, so Xiao Yen didn’t respond. Besides, weren’t they the same thing?
“Listen,” Master Wei instructed as he turned and looked out the window.
Xiao Yen listened. She couldn’t hear anything. She knew Fat Fang, Long Yen, and some of the other students were playing ball in the other courtyard, but she couldn’t hear them.
“The silence of this room is a great comfort,” Master Wei said after a while. “Sometimes, it’s a sorrow as well. Would you like to live in a room like this someday?” Master Wei turned back to Xiao Yen, leaning forward in his chair, his arms resting on his knees. “To be surrounded by your work, by your creations, with silence running like a clear stream through all your days? To shine like a light in a watchtower outside of town, outside of everything? Or do you want to be in the center, surrounded by your family and your descendants?”
Xiao Yen looked around Master Wei’s room, at the hundreds of creations on his shelves, the small bed that would never be shared, the space that was his and his alone. The stillness in the room penetrated her bones and touched a responsive chord in her. The peacefulness attracted her more than it frightened her.
Xiao Yen solemnly faced Master Wei again. “Yes. I like the quiet.”
Master Wei’s eyes widened. He looked surprised. “I would think a girl would choose her family first, but then again, my sister would exchange places with me in an instant.” He chuckled. “You don’t remind me of her at all, though she’s the reason why I decided to let any girls into the school at all. She’s like black ice on a late winter morning. Everything slides off her, around her. Our mother wouldn’t let her train with me. Though she was very good at the few things I showed her. . . .” Master Wei fell silent again and studied his student.
Xiao Yen’s ears burned with embarrassment at the intimacies Master Wei shared, but she didn’t squirm. Her time at the school had taught her how to be still.
“We need to work on your fighting skills,” Master Wei repeated, turning from her and picking up a paper from his desk. “You’re too trusting. Too nice. You felt bad about beating Fat Fang this afternoon, didn’t you?”
Xiao Yen agreed, not meeting his eye.
“You shouldn’t. You have more imagination than those two combined. You need to compete when you’re in a contest. There has to be a winner, and it isn’t wrong for you to win.”
“But they’re boys.”
“So?”
Xiao Yen didn’t know how to reply. Wasn’t it obvious? As a girl, how could Xiao Yen hope to be better than her male classmates?
With a loud sigh, Master Wei leaned back, picked up a piece of paper from his desk, and handed it to Xiao Yen. The paper had been folded into a square, the center sealed with a bright red stamp. “Please give this to your aunt,” he said.
Xiao Yen stood for a moment, unsure if he was finished. He no longer watched her, but stared at the ceiling. She bowed low and turned toward the door.
Master Wei called out after her. “Yes, they’re boys. But you”—he paused—“are Xiao Yen.”
Xiao Yen looked back over her shoulder. What did that mean?
Master Wei stood up and bowed to her, bending his gaunt frame almost in two, until he bowed to her like an equal. Xiao Yen bowed back, her spirits shooting toward the ceiling. When she straightened up, Master Wei gestured toward the door. Xiao Yen was dismissed.
She picked up her sack from outside the door and walked across the outer courtyard. What had her master meant? Of course, sh
e was herself. She was also part of Wang Tie-Tie’s family, a daughter and a sister. Even if she had a room like Master Wei’s, she’d still have family.
Xiao Yen sighed and shook her head. It was too much to think about. Wang Tie-Tie would take care of her, see to her future, get her a good commission. She had no reason to worry.
* * *
The quality of the silence coming from the cave behind Xiao Yen made her shoulders tense. Every sound was muffled, indistinct, oppressed. The rat dragon slept somewhere in the tunnels of the hill she rested against. Udo had to be there, too, lost, maybe dead. Xiao Yen had to find him. But she couldn’t get up. Not yet.
Xiao Yen took another deep breath, trying to breathe past the rising bubble of terror threatening to choke her. Her quiet place was impossible to reach, as if it had never existed. She even pushed down with her hands as she exhaled, seeking to push away her fear. Though her hands stayed steady, her fear remained. She had to go into the cave now, or she never would.
She made herself stand up. The shadow of the hill had grown since she’d sat down, stretching across the flat plain. Xiao Yen could see everything for many li in front of her. Nothing moved. Khan Hua lay on the horizon like an empty black bag a giant had dropped. Smells of rotting fruit, moldy cloth, wet fur, and urine rose from the garbage heap to her right. It looked as though a lazy maid had swept all the refuse from the tunnels out one of the holes, letting it collect at the foot of the hill. Young Lu had been right. It had been very easy to find this place. Xiao Yen was sure Udo had found it too.
Xiao Yen opened her pack. It bulged with a lightweight knotted fishing net. She pushed the net to one side and pulled out a paper lantern and a candle. The lantern had thin strips of bamboo along the sides and top to give it structure. The top pieces snapped in and out of place, allowing Xiao Yen to fold the lantern flat. She uncreased the paper where it had been folded, then she lit her candle and impaled it on a thorn placed at the bottom of the lantern. She had four candles in her pack; enough, she hoped, to get her through the cave.
Many sharp rocks covered the floor of the entrance to the cave. They bit into Xiao Yen’s boots. She walked carefully and told herself it was like the time Master Wei had made his students walk on river rocks to release the energy in their feet. Her high-pitched giggle held so much hysteria she stopped again and checked her hands, holding them out in front of her. She couldn’t see any trembling. She didn’t want to look too long. She forced herself to move forward.
The wide cave entrance narrowed into a downward-sloping tunnel. Xiao Yen had to bend over, as if bowing to an equal, to avoid brushing her head against the roof. The light from Xiao Yen’s lantern didn’t extend beyond her feet. She placed her free hand against the tunnel’s sloping sides. There were too many protruding rocks for her fingers to glide across the wall as she walked. Instead, with every step, she deliberately put her hand out, like an old man placing his cane as he walked.
She walked as quietly as she could. Young Lu had told her there was a rumor that the rat dragon slept in the afternoon, but she didn’t know for certain. Xiao Yen’s heart jumped every time she dislodged a rock or made any sort of noise. She strained, listening for Udo, scared she’d hear scampering clawed feet. Only oppressive silence greeted her ears.
Soon the tunnel forked. Her aunt had said that though there were many tunnels, finding the rat dragon would be easy—Xiao Yen just had to follow her nose. Getting out was another matter. She wouldn’t be able to smell fresh air until she was close to the end of a tunnel, and even then, it might lead to a sheer cliff. Xiao Yen knew she’d never keep right and left straight in her head. Xiao Yen did know how to memorize a series of paper-folding instructions. When she turned and went down a tunnel to her right, she made a mountain-fold in the imaginary creature she built in her head. When she turned left, she made a valley-fold. If she had more choices than that, she did an inside-reverse fold, crimping the fold to adjust for the tunnel order.
Finally the down-sloping tunnels opened up into a larger tunnel. Xiao Yen stood up straight and eased her back. She held her paper lantern above her head. To her left, she sensed a wide open space, maybe a cavern. She gratefully gulped down the fresh wind blowing from that direction. To her right, the humid animal smell was stronger than ever.
Xiao Yen took one slow step after another, her heart thudding in her chest. She held her eyes open wide, trying to see in the darkness. Her mouth dried up. Though the arm holding the lantern was steady, she trembled inside. The tunnel dead-ended in a round room, with a large boulder to the left of the entrance.
The boulder moved.
Xiao Yen froze.
The boulder stayed in one place, but the top of it moved up and down slightly.
It was breathing.
Xiao Yen forced herself to back up and stop. The light continued to move. Xiao Yen didn’t understand what was happening until she looked at her lantern.
Her hand was shaking.
Xiao Yen placed the lantern on the ground and drew the net out of her bag. It wouldn’t hold a heavy fish, but Xiao Yen hoped that, with the knot magic, it would hold the rat dragon.
Xiao Yen needed to surround the rat dragon on all sides with the net. Luckily, the tunnel entrance the rat dragon slept behind wasn’t that tall. She stood on her toes and threw one end of the net up, snagging it near the ceiling. She carefully hooked one edge of the net, then the other, on protruding rocks about waist height on either side of the opening. The bottom of the net dragged on the ground.
Xiao Yen closed her eyes and concentrated on shrinking the knots, turning the net gossamer and thin. Wind blew on her back from the large cavern, sending chicken flesh across her shoulders.
When she opened her eyes, two red orbs glared at her.
Xiao Yen heard herself say, “Oh!” She put her hand to her mouth and took a step back and to the side, away from her net. She made herself move slowly, controlling her urge to run.
The red orbs followed her. As the rat dragon pushed forward with its long snout, the net fell and draped itself across the rat dragon’s back, reaching all the way to the floor behind the beast. The dragon took two more steps, bringing the front of the net underneath it. Xiao Yen released the illusion of thinness and worked its opposite. In her mind’s eye, she saw the strings as ropes, thicker than her forearm, each knot as big as a melon, pressing down on the armor plates protecting the rat dragon’s back. Irregular black, white, and brown bristles covered the armor, as lichen grew on rocks. Leatherlike wings pushed up against net, trying to lift it. The rat dragon twisted its long snout from one side to the other, biting at the ropes that appeared out of nowhere. The snapping jaws were within an arm’s reach of Xiao Yen.
Xiao Yen raised her shaking lantern to find the edges of the net, where it flowed off the dragon’s back and touched itself. She blended the adjacent ropes into one, forming a solid bag out of the long net. Then she pulled the knots tighter, shrank the spaces between them. The rat dragon twisted its head from side to side, but it couldn’t get free. Its long golden whiskers pressed up against the sides of its snout. It lifted one horribly naked pink scaly foot, pushing at the net with yellowed claws. The net strained, but held. The rat dragon hissed at Xiao Yen. She found herself panting as if she’d just run many li.
Udo’s voice suddenly called out from behind her. Xiao Yen felt a momentary relief. At least he was nearby, and not completely lost in the tunnels. The rat dragon’s ears perked up, dried flaps of skin poking between the holes in the net. Its tail stuck out beyond the net, scaled and pink, like its feet.
Xiao Yen took a step back. She couldn’t turn around and walk normally, exposing her back to this monster.
The rat dragon started gnawing the ropes.
The sound sent shivers up Xiao Yen’s spine. It grated on her nerves, sawing across her calm. Long fangs ground together, biting at the illusion. Xiao Yen shuddered. The ropes wouldn’t hold forever—sooner or later those teeth would sink into her skin. She had to f
ind that hairpin. Fast.
Udo called again, calling for the rat dragon to come to him, challenging it. Xiao Yen couldn’t let herself worry about his arrogance now. She backed up some more. She didn’t turn around until the bulk of the rat dragon had disappeared into shadow and she could only see the two pinpoints of red light glaring at her. She had little time to find the hairpin, then to find Udo, and get away.
She walked toward the main cavern, stopping at each passage and peering into its dark entrance, even venturing a few steps down, trying to find the treasure room. Young Lu had heard stories about gold at the end of one of the tunnels. Xiao Yen assumed the hairpin would be there.
The sound of gnawing harassed her. Udo’s calls irritated her. He was always shouting. Now he was going to get himself killed and it would be her fault for not protecting him, though he was the one being stupid, who’d left before they could make a solid plan.
Xiao Yen walked into the large cavern at the end of the tunnel. At the far end, two streaming pillars of sunlight came through holes in the ceiling. She looked away from them and waited for her night vision to return. The gnawing continued. It seemed closer now.
To her right was another passage. It held its own source of light. She almost didn’t go down it, but she had to check every nook.
At the end of the passage, sitting in its own spot of sunlight, lay a treasure heap. Xiao Yen, blinded by the light, started walking straight to it.
The toes of her right foot touched air.
Xiao Yen threw herself backward, landing hard on her bottom and elbows, the breath temporarily knocked out of her. She crawled forward. A large chasm gaped between the edge of the tunnel and the treasure. Xiao Yen couldn’t see the bottom of it. She dropped a pebble down the side, and heard it land before she’d counted to two. It wasn’t that deep. She could possibly climb down. But how was she supposed to climb back up the other side? Even if she had ropes, she didn’t know how to climb. Neither Wang Tie-Tie or Master Wei had made her learn that.
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