Paper Mage

by Leah R. Cutter

  “I forgive you,” Vakhtang replied in a silky voice.

  Xiao Yen felt her hope sink even lower. Power emanated from this man, more power than from Master Wei when he did his exercises.

  Hard fingers grabbed Xiao Yen’s chin and forced her to look up. Dark brown eyes sucked at her soul, greedy to possess her. Vakhtang’s face was as tan as a farmer’s, but he didn’t have the laugh lines a farmer would.

  Xiao Yen made herself smile and let the pressure from his hand raise her to her feet. He towered over her. She only reached his mid-chest. His arms were like round barrels underneath his jacket, straining the silk. She looked down and away from him.

  Blankets, fur rugs, and pillows covered the entire floor, like in those forbidden stories Gan Ou had read to her. Long strips of cloth, muted reds and browns, hung from a hook in the ceiling and along the walls, hiding the straight lines of the room. They made the room seem smaller, like there was no place to hide.

  Vakhtang followed Xiao Yen’s wandering gaze. He said, “I like to remember the tents I was born in when I’m in town.”

  He indicated with his hand that she should take a seat on the pillows next to the table. His tone of voice indicated that she shouldn’t ask more about his birthplace.

  Xiao Yen sat down, taking care to appear graceful, arranging her long skirts over her legs so the fabric draped nicely, as Bei Xi had taught her at a campsite many lifetimes ago.

  Vakhtang took a seat on the other side of the table. He sat so his back wasn’t facing the door. Though he had the bubble around his heart and was supposed to be invulnerable, he was still scared, just as Kai Ju had said. Maybe Xiao Yen could hope.

  Xiao Yen smiled, and to hide it, looked down at the table. The dark top was carved and inlaid with two lighter-colored woods, making a pattern of fish jumping through waves. It was an older piece, the kind traditionally inherited from one generation to the next in a family. Xiao Yen wondered from whom Vakhtang had stolen it. A tea service sat on the table. The pot was made of plain red, baked mud, in the shape of a rooster, appropriate for a bachelor. The cups were made out of similar material, the handles in the shape of leaves and vines.

  “Were you born near this town?” Xiao Yen asked as she poured two cups of tea.

  “Yes, north and east of here,” Vakhtang replied, his tone low and guarded.

  “Have you been back to see your family?” Xiao Yen asked as she handed him a cup. She kept her head averted so he wouldn’t notice her secrets.

  The teacup grew heavy in her hand. The silence in the room coalesced. Xiao Yen turned her head so she could look at Vakhtang out of the corner of her eye. When her gaze touched him, he broke into laughter.

  “You imp!” he said, pounding the cushions next to him with one hand while taking the proffered cup with the other. “You knew I didn’t want to talk about seeing my village, but also that I needed to talk about it. Are all paper mages trained as well as you?”

  Xiao Yen picked up her own teacup and took a calm sip, proud to see that her hands weren’t shaking. She didn’t meet his eye, but did turn to face him. She smiled demurely, hoping that was answer enough.

  “Why do you ask about my family?” Vakhtang said, swirling the tea in his cup and peering at her.

  “I”—Xiao Yen paused, unsure if she should tell the truth, but she forced herself to plunge on—“need to please you.”

  She didn’t add what she was truly thinking, “Or I am quickly dead.”

  Instead, Xiao Yen said, “To do that, I must learn about you. Wang Tie-Tie always said a man without a past was like a tree without its roots, easily blown over in any storm. You”—Xiao Yen paused again—“aren’t about to be blown down. So I asked about where you were born, your family.”

  Vakhtang looked at her thoughtfully. “Is that really why? Or haven’t we tempered your will enough? Maybe I should call the guards and let you play together again.”

  Xiao Yen hastily placed her cup on the table and prostrated herself on the ground. She forced her hands to show the trembling of her heart. “My only thought was to please you, my lord. That is all.”

  Vakhtang snorted. The silence in the room grew.

  Xiao Yen continued to make her hands shake. She knew Vakhtang’s threat was an idle one. He wouldn’t call the guards again. Kai Ju had been right, though she didn’t know the full extent of it. Vakhtang wasn’t just scared; his fears drove him. Because he was fearful, he needed to be feared.

  It was the key to his character.

  Finally, Vakhtang said, “Rise, little mage. If you need more tempering, I can do it myself.”

  Xiao Yen sat up slowly. She tried to mix the emotions on her face, to remain calm and yet show some fear. She took care to not show any of the hope she felt. Vakhtang seemed satisfied.

  Xiao Yen didn’t know what to say now, whether to ask again about his family or to talk about something else. She took a sip of tea, letting her hands fall back into their natural, calm state. The silence continued. Finally it occurred to her what he wanted.

  “What would you like to talk about, my lord?” she asked, giving him all the control he sought.

  “My family.” Vakhtang paused, then looked straight at Xiao Yen, his gaze drilling into her. “My family gave me this future. My father was chieftain of our tribe. My uncles taught me the art of war. My eldest aunt taught me of magic, of knots and fire and how to look through the skin of a man to see the strength of his soul.”

  Vakhtang paused again. “You have a delicious strength,” he said. “There is so much more to you than meets the eye.”

  Xiao Yen laughed, the sound like a frightened bird breaking into the room. “I am a weak willow in your overpowering wind,” she said. She needed to deflect the point of this conversation. “Tell me of your uncles.”

  Vakhtang smiled as he sipped his tea. “I wanted more than the tiny patch of ground we called ours. My uncles counseled tolerance. The hypocrites. So I took the village closest to us, killed the men and boys, made slaves of the women, and burned everything to the ground.” He considered his teacup for a moment.

  “My uncles opposed me. Said what I’d done was evil. But it wasn’t, don’t you agree? I’d done what they’d taught me. What’s more, I’d done what they’d wanted to do, in their secret hearts, the ones they showed no one. I found that out when I took their souls.” He sighed and shook his head, his eyes faraway.

  Xiao Yen said the first thing that came to her mind. “Was it hard to take your uncles?”

  Vakhtang laughed, a short bark that was almost a cry. “Yes. It was. I had become”—he paused—“invulnerable, in my person. I needed their strength to help me stay that way. They were weak, too weak. It took too much of my energy to suck them dry. They had nothing left to give me at the end. They taught me to only use people with enough fire.” He looked again at Xiao Yen, considering her.

  Xiao Yen couldn’t help her curiosity. “What is it like? To be invulnerable?”

  Vakhtang smiled at her, like a master proud of his student. “Nothing can kill me, but I’m still not safe.”

  Xiao Yen nodded to herself. She’d been right. Fear drove Vakhtang, fear of death, fear of life, fear of everything unknown.

  Vakhtang continued. “What would happen if someone captured me, made me a prisoner? I’d be trapped forever in some dungeon. Or worse, if I fell under a torturer’s care?” Vakhtang’s tone was bantering as he said these things.

  Xiao Yen heard the undercurrent of terror running through his words.

  “So I will secure my kingdom, controlling everything from one horizon to the other. I will be safe.”

  Xiao Yen breathed deeply to hide her shiver. He sounded so determined. How could you control everything? It went against nature.

  “Tell me about your most important battle,” she said. She had to keep his thoughts moving around, away from eating her soul, taking her strength too. There weren’t enough souls in all the world to keep him safe, but he couldn’t see that.


  “That was the sword fight with Er Tso, the great general, who opposed my uniting the tribes. It lasted three days and two nights. People still tell tales of the night of the thundering ride, when I threw him from Mount Tang.”

  Xiao Yen had heard this tale too, but in Young Lu’s version, the good general had refused to fight Vakhtang, accusing him of being evil and an unworthy opponent. So Vakhtang had had the general poisoned, then trampled to death by his own horses.

  “Did you ever learn Wu Xu sword form?” she asked, naming the only form she’d ever heard of.

  “Yes, with both one and two swords,” Vakhtang said proudly.

  Xiao Yen sighed. “I never learned how to use any weapons. I only ever learned the folding poses Master Wei taught us.” She looked at Vakhtang, forcing hope into her voice. “Would you teach me how to use a sword?”

  Vakhtang laughed. “I don’t think I want to teach you how to fight.”

  Xiao Yen saw her opening. She lowered her eyes and looked back up at Vakhtang through her lashes, imitating how Bei Xi had looked at Ehran sometimes. “I don’t know anything about men’s swords,” she said.

  Vakhtang laughed again, throatier. He’d understood her meaning. “I’ll show you,” he said. “Come over to this side of the table.”

  Xiao Yen laughed, trying to keep her tone clear and light, like a young girl at a picnic. “No, silly. That wouldn’t be fair. I’ll stay on this side. Wang Tie-Tie always said the best way to learn is by doing.” She pulled the two pins from her hair, letting it tumble down her back, and tossed one to Vakhtang, while she kept the other, the gold phoenix.

  “Guard well!” Xiao Yen said as she flourished her hairpin. Then she reminded herself to smile. The phoenix was almost as big as her palm, and its beak poked into her flesh when she closed her hand around it. It felt awkwardly balanced.

  A high-pitched, metal-against-metal sound occurred when the two hairpins came together. Vakhtang grinned. Xiao Yen laughed and said, “Well done! Well done.” She brought her hand down, then bent her wrist back, like the Snake Striking Wall pose that Master Wei had taught her. Vakhtang was too quick for her, and parried her blow.

  She tried another light blow from the same side, and again Vakhtang stopped her. Then he reversed his angle, and pricked her wrist with his hairpin.

  “Good blow!” Xiao Yen said, forcing a laugh.

  Vakhtang grunted, as if that was expected. He attacked again, first from one side, then the other, but slowly enough so that Xiao Yen could defend herself. He pushed his arm forward, forcing Xiao Yen to pull back, until she was defending herself almost in front of her chest.

  Xiao Yen took a deep breath, breathing strength into her arms. She pushed her arm forward, now forcing Vakhtang to retreat. She tried to laugh. A squeak escaped. This was supposed to distract Vakhtang from subsuming her. He was far too serious. Now his defenses were up. He would think of her as a threat. The sound of metal on metal filled the air, a continual tinging, like from a copper shop.

  The war spirit seemed to have possessed Vakhtang. His face was wiped clean of emotion. His eyes grew darker, large pools of black water, absorbing everything. His hand moved quickly, though in restricted motions. The white knots on his jacket expanded, growing closer together, in order to protect him from any blow.

  Xiao Yen had to stop this. She was just going to have to distract Vakhtang that other way. She let Vakhtang push her back and hit her hand. The blow stung, and she dropped her hairpin.

  “Oh, sir! You’ve beaten me,” she said, lowering her eyes. “Will you come collect what you’ve won?” she continued, raising her head flirtatiously.

  The stone held Vakhtang’s face for another moment, then it broke apart. He grinned and said, “Come here, little mage.”

  Xiao Yen rose and walked around to his side of the table. Butterflies filled her stomach.

  Vakhtang didn’t rise. He reached up with one arm and grabbed hers, then pulled her down into his lap. “Oh, my sweet,” he said, breathing into her neck.

  Xiao Yen wrapped her right arm around his back. Vakhtang kissed her neck, nipping and lapping at it, like a cat with a fresh bone. She hated his touching her; she hated anyone touching her, but she would endure it. She turned her head away from him, hoping he couldn’t feel the trembling at her core. He sucked at her neck now, pulling the skin into his mouth.

  She felt herself rise out of her body, as if she watched from a great distance. Time slowed down. She watched how her left arm stretched out across the table, the long sleeve brushing first against her thigh, coming up to the edge of the table, over the top of the table. Then her small white hand peeked out from under the red silk, the scar on the top of her hand flashing in the candlelight while she retrieved the hairpin.

  Like a log freed from where it was stuck in a river, slowly her arm turned and came back toward her body, back toward Vakhtang, the end of the hairpin leading the way. She used the hairpin on his neck as if she was carving the first stroke of her name in a tree. Just one small stroke. The skin barely tore. Xiao Yen watched the blood in fascination as it welled.

  Then time speeded up. Vakhtang stopped kissing her and made a choked sound. Xiao Yen stood up, her heart beating in her bruised throat. She dropped the hairpin on the table. The metal ends hissed and dissolved, as if dipped in acid.

  Vakhtang stayed seated and stared straight ahead, his hands flat on his chest, pushing against it. His dark eyes filled with fear. At first, the side of his neck pulsed, as though a great heart beat under the wound. Then the skin swelled and ripped, as if something crawled under it, pushing against the hole, trying to escape. Vakhtang tried to speak, but his throat had been pulled too tight. He made one last hoarse intake of breath. Blue crept into his face as he choked. Then he didn’t make any noise at all. The sizzling hairpin was the only sound in the room.

  A vivid blue liquid crowded out the blood of his scratch, dripped down his neck, and stained his jacket. Vakhtang froze, then crashed down on the table, shattering a teacup. A soft sigh escaped and a scent like gardenias filled the room. It was similar to Bei Xi’s scent, but sweeter, lighter.

  Xiao Yen wanted to smile. Jhr Bei had escaped. She could now go to await rebirth.

  While Xiao Yen stood in a tented room with a dead man.

  Dogs barked outside. Xiao Yen heard the guards talking in the hall. She knew they wouldn’t disturb their master for the sake of some broken pottery. They expected to hear sounds of violence.

  She walked to the back wall and pulled the third cord.

  Xiao Yen longed to run from the room. Instead, she forced herself to kneel at the end of the table, next to Vakhtang. Her knees felt as old as Wang Tie-Tie’s. She arranged her gown over her legs, draping it in the most attractive way. Everything grew quiet. Xiao Yen folded her hands in her lap and listened to the silence death left in its wake. It had a different quality than a living silence: more was expected from it. Xiao Yen half expected Vakhtang to sit up, his face frozen in a grotesque grin.

  He didn’t move.

  Xiao Yen sought her inner silence. She plunged deep into it, searching for a place where she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. The river running through her calm place welcomed her, sucked her into itself, and held her.

  She’d killed a man.

  It didn’t matter that Vakhtang had been evil, or that he’d ordered his soldiers to do unspeakable things to her. She’d killed him. She was no better than a foreigner or a barbarian. She didn’t allow herself to think of Fu Be Be, or what she might say.

  Dead silence in a cold river was all that was left to her.

  * * *

  “When will you come home again?” Gan Ou said.

  Xiao Yen felt both gratitude and despair at Gan Ou’s question. Gratitude that she’d asked the question while they were alone, and not in front of Fu Be Be or Wang Tie-Tie. Despair, because she could only answer the form of the question, not the essence.

  “I’ll be home again when I win enough contests,” Xi
ao Yen said.

  “You mean you can’t just come home when you want?” Gan Ou asked, incredulous.

  “No. I have responsibilities at the school. I teach younger students to fold. And I have my own studies. All of us older students have much more work than time. So Master Wei makes us hold combats. After you win a number of them, you get to go home for a while. The person with the most losses takes your responsibilities while you’re gone.”

  “You battle?” Gan Ou said, shock raising her tone until it was almost a shriek. “The men?”

  Xiao Yen shrugged helplessly. It was a major part of her school training now. Someday, if Wang Tie-Tie could convince someone to hire Xiao Yen, it would be her job to defend property or people. Gan Ou and her mother would never understand, or accept a woman fighting.

  Maybe they were right to be ashamed.

  Xiao Yen pushed the thought aside.

  Gan Ou stared at Xiao Yen for a moment, then deliberately turned her back on her younger sister and walked out of their old room. Xiao Yen closed her eyes, hoping that maybe by blocking the sight she could escape the pain.

  No wonder she consistently lost contests for the first half moon or so after she visited her family.

  “Guard well!” Xiao Yen called, using the traditional phrase Master Wei had taught them.

  Fat Fang didn’t reply. He stared into the small, egg-shaped arena that lay between them. The walls were wooden, about the length of Xiao Yen’s arm. Each end of the oval pointed at a student. On Fat Fang’s side lay a cherry-colored ribbon—the prize of their contest.

  A short dog stood at Xiao Yen’s end of the arena, golden brown along the flanks, mud brown around its head. It loomed over the scorpion waiting at the other end. The dog’s left lip curled in a snarl. The short dark hair along the back of its neck stood straight up. The scorpion waved its tail at the dog, like a daring boy with a pendant. The dog lunged and snapped up the scorpion in its mouth.