Before the dog could bite down with its sharp canines, the scorpion flexed its tail and stung the dog on the side of its snout. The dog opened its mouth, letting the scorpion fall and scuttle back to the end it was protecting. The dog stood shaking its head, opening and closing its mouth.
A high-pitched twitter came from behind Xiao Yen. She jumped, then forced her shoulders down, taking a deep breath to squelch the flame of anger that surged through her. She had to admit the dog looked humorous standing there, working its jaw like that. That didn’t give Bing Yu, Fat Fang’s sister and her former friend, any right to laugh.
Xiao Yen took another deep breath and focused on her dog again. It had to get beyond Fat Fang’s scorpion to the ribbon, the prize the scorpion guarded. If her dog could just grab that ribbon, Xiao Yen would win a contest. She’d lost almost every contest the students had held for the last three moons, much longer than usual after coming back from visiting her family.
The dog stared at the scorpion, showing its teeth. It bunched up its hind legs, almost like a cat, then leapt at the scorpion. This time it got stung on its tender nose.
Again and again the dog attacked the scorpion, trying to get past Fat Fang’s creation to the goal. Every time it was stung, beaten back.
The soft ding from the water clock indicating that the hour had passed brought Xiao Yen back to the room. She’d lost. Again.
She looked to where Master Wei stood at the end of the table, in front of the altar. He wore a long, dark blue robe, embroidered with circles of lucky white bats. His face was expressionless. Maybe, because she’d tried so hard, maybe, this time she would . . .
Master Wei turned his head and indicated that the contest had gone to Fat Fang. Xiao Yen watched with envy as Fat Fang took his paper creation up to the brazier on the altar and placed it on the fire, releasing whatever spirit he had captured with his folding and animating. Fat Fang smirked at her as he took his seat and picked up the prize ribbon. Then Xiao Yen burned the remains of her dog.
Xiao Yen heard a rustle of silk behind her, footsteps that approached, then stopped. She forced herself to turn around. Bing Yu stood there, looking as if she wanted to say something. She wore an iridescent robe of lavender silk, covered with a pattern of intertwining gold grapevines, representing wealth and fruitfulness. Between her petite nose and the paleness of her makeup, Bing Yu looked more like a perfect statue than a living person.
Xiao Yen bowed and said, “Thank you for watching this unworthy person battle your successful and talented brother. Though we do not deserve the grace of your presence, I beg you to come again, and soon.”
“Though this unmeritous person wouldn’t presume to give you advice . . .” Bing Yu paused, turned her head to look at Fat Fang, then looked back at Xiao Yen out of the corner of her eye.
Xiao Yen said what was expected of her. “I would greatly appreciate any advice you may deign to give me. But you do not have to give advice to this undeserving person. Do not trouble yourself.” Xiao Yen’s voice went down on the last phrase, the ritual words turned personal. She couldn’t win a contest. She wasn’t a worthy mage.
“Come,” Bing Yu said, slipping her hand into the crook of Xiao Yen’s arm, like her sister Gan Ou did. “Let’s go for a walk in the courtyard, and talk.” She turned the pair of them and bowed to Master Wei, saying, “That is, if your esteemed master will allow us.”
Master Wei said, “Please. I grant Xiao Yen permission to walk with you instead of watching the contest between Fat Fang and Long Yen.”
Xiao Yen bowed low to hide her bristling, then turned with Bing Yu and walked out into the courtyard. Master Wei had found reasons for Xiao Yen to not watch the other students compete more than once. How would she learn if she couldn’t observe them? Master Wei had told her to observe herself more. What did that mean?
Bing Yu asked after Xiao Yen’s family as they walked across the sunny courtyard. Xiao Yen told her of Gan Ou’s wedding, and that her sister was expecting again. Xiao Yen was careful to not mention that Gan Ou had taken to her bed. She’d lost the second child late in her pregnancy, and so was being extra careful this time.
Bing Yu, on hearing the name of Gan Ou’s husband, exclaimed, “Oh! We’re cousins now!” She looked meaningfully at Xiao Yen.
Xiao Yen replied politely, “Really?”
Bing Yu explained, at great length, how their families were related through a second cousin on her father’s side. “This means that we’ll never be more than cousins,” Bing Yu finished with a pointed look at Xiao Yen.
Xiao Yen didn’t understand what she was supposed to see.
Bing Yu sighed dramatically, like a heroine portrayed by a street performer, then tugged on Xiao Yen’s arm, leading her to the far corner of the courtyard. She looked around, as if making sure they were alone. Finally she turned back to Xiao Yen. “Do you think Gan Ou, and the baby, will live?” Bing Yu asked, enunciating clearly, making each word a separate, hard spike.
Xiao Yen took a sharp breath, too shocked to speak. Of course, Wang Tie-Tie and Fu Be Be were worried. No one ever spoke of such things aloud. To say evil was to attract it to you.
Before she could recover, Bing Yu asked, “How about my brother, Fat Fang, eh? Do you ever want to ‘hide the pearl’ with him?”
Xiao Yen put her hand over her mouth. What could Bing Yu mean? She’d never . . .
Bing Yu inclined her head toward Xiao Yen. “Now you know how I felt when I saw you competing. Your attacks are as clumsy as my words. You’re unbalanced. You have too much yang, not enough yin. You attack with aggression, head-on, like a man. You need to think more like a woman. You need to attack sideways, like a crab.”
Xiao Yen pondered what Bing Yu had said. Was that what Master Wei had meant by learning from observing herself? Was that why she no longer won contests? The boys were coming more into themselves, becoming men. Xiao Yen had no one to guide her, no other women living at the school to help her, no one at home to talk with.
Xiao Yen stood still, feeling the solid tiles beneath her feet, letting their cold seep through her soles, letting herself become stone. She created the best creatures of all the students in the school because she followed nature. She needed to tap into that same spring for her animations. Not to create better creatures, but to lend them part of her own spirit as well.
Bing Yu fluttered next to her, like a butterfly in a breeze. She didn’t know quiet. She felt connections though, and thought sideways. Like meandering water, she always got to her goal, though sometimes through a seemingly backward course.
Xiao Yen bowed deeply to Bing Yu.
Bing Yu started to talk again, telling her things she’d heard in Bao Fang: of the rumor that the head priest at the White Temple had a new mistress; of the sighting of a gold dragon that would mean good crops that year; and of the rain that would or wouldn’t come.
Xiao Yen listened, but didn’t comment, trying to see where Bing Yu was leading, trying to think outside of the straight lines of boys and devils.
This time, a fat crab, twice the size of Xiao Yen’s palm, faced Fat Fang’s scorpion. It scuttled sideways toward the scorpion, then at the last minute, pivoted and slashed at the other creature. The scorpion stung the crab’s hard shell to no avail. The crab pushed with its claw, trying to move the scorpion out of the way, seeking the ribbon. The scorpion gave some ground, then rushed forward again, its mandibles under the crab, lifting the crab up so only one set of its legs touched the ground. The scorpion pushed like an old man with a shovelful of dirt until the creatures were halfway across the arena.
When the crab got all of its legs on the ground again, it scuttled away from the prize, then with amazing speed changed direction and went straight for it. The scorpion barely got in front of it in time.
Back and forth they went, the crab approaching the scorpion and the prize from oblique angles, but always being repulsed at the last moment. It touched the ribbon once, but was pushed aside by the scorpion before it could grasp it
.
Finally the scorpion got enough leverage and flipped the crab over onto its back. The crab struggled to right itself, but there was nothing for it to grab, nothing it could gain purchase on. The contest was over. The crab had been subverted.
Xiao Yen sighed as she watched the victorious Fat Fang fondle his latest prize. He had quite a collection in his room. As did Long Yen. Xiao Yen had a pitiful few. Why couldn’t she animate a creature that could win?
She’d tried the boys’ tactics, ramming straight ahead. That hadn’t worked. She’d tried a woman’s tactics, things that Wang Tie-Tie or Bing Yu or even Fu Be Be would have approved of. That hadn’t helped either. What kind of tactics did she need for herself? What would work for her?
She reached up and rubbed her lucky amulet. If only she could call on her luck. But her luck only came when she wasn’t expecting it, not when she counted on it.
Rubbing her amulet harder, it occurred to her to try to trick her luck. Pretend that she didn’t need it. Xiao Yen took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders. She closed her eyes and thought about that first big contest, when she’d danced with her crane. How good it had felt to move to that unheard rhythm that had filled her head. The wonder of her crane’s glorious flight as it leapt toward the sky. How proud she’d felt when Master Wei had first called her a paper mage.
Xiao Yen imagined her mind as a clear jade bowl. It filled with the essence of whatever creature she folded. Then she poured it out, poured all her thoughts and feelings and knowledge into her creation, leaving nothing behind. It was like a meadow, flooded with moonlight at night, with no traces of that silver light left in the morning.
Xiao Yen didn’t notice what she’d folded until she’d finished. She was a bit dismayed to find she’d folded a mouse. What good would a mouse do against the snake Fat Fang had folded?
Again, Xiao Yen turned her thoughts away from defeat, and toward happy times.
The contest was short. The mouse stayed shaking at Xiao Yen’s end of the arena while the snake leisurely made its way across. Then, just before the snake struck, the mouse darted away, sprinting toward the other end. The snake couldn’t glide back fast enough. Xiao Yen’s mouse had the prize in its mouth before the snake returned.
Fat Fang huffed out loud at Xiao Yen’s victory. He obviously hadn’t expected her to win.
Master Wei congratulated Xiao Yen, saying, “You see? You just needed to find yourself.”
Xiao Yen disagreed, but she didn’t say anything. Though she’d been more relaxed, more herself, the real reason she’d won was because of her luck. She’d pretended she hadn’t needed it, so it had come.
What would happen if she ever lost it?
* * *
Xiao Yen stayed swaddled in her silence. She didn’t look up when the giggling women came into the room. Two stayed in the corridor with the soldiers. Once the door closed, the women’s casual attitude disappeared. One pulled an under jacket; another, a pair of pants; and a third, an outer jacket from under their own clothes. Two others urged Xiao Yen up and stripped her “wedding” gown off before she’d realized what was happening. They concentrated on dressing her, not wasting a look at Vakhtang.
Xiao Yen rubbed the back of her left hand, hoping that some luck remained there.
Then they were out in the corridor, walking away. The guards were so involved with the women entertaining them that Xiao Yen wondered if they’d even seen the group leave the room.
The smell that greeted them in the women’s quarters made Xiao Yen wrinkle her nose. She still swam deep inside herself. The silence she’d sought after Vakhtang’s death wouldn’t let any words slide out.
Kai Ju, her braids undone and her hair hanging loose down her back, bowed low to Xiao Yen as she entered the room.
Xiao Yen returned the bow. She’d done what she said she would do. How to live with it though? She turned to Kai Ju, curious about the smell, still unable to ask about it.
“Hope and miracles, little one. That’s the smell of hope and miracles.” Kai Ju laughed, a younger laugh than Xiao Yen had thought the older woman possessed. “Come,” Kai Ju said. She led Xiao Yen to the baths.
There, Udo soaked in a tub. The sun had been taken from his hair. His skin was pale and sickly. The lines around his mouth held pain. Dark circles lay underneath his closed eyes and the lids were smudged, as if a child had drawn them on with charcoal.
Xiao Yen wanted to ask Kai Ju about Udo, but she couldn’t force the words out of her deep waters. Kai Ju answered her as if she’d asked anyway.
“He appeared in our midst, cloaked from prying eyes by Our Lady. He’s had some rough treatment. He was hung from his arms for a while. Then from his feet. But neither his shoulders or his hips were dislocated. He was made to roll in his own refuse, but he wouldn’t eat it, so he was filthy, and starving, when he appeared. Our Lady instructed us to care for him.” Kai Ju beamed at Udo, as if he were her own son. “If he can be rescued, a foreigner, then surely our own men can be too?”
Had Jhr Bei come back from the dead? Why would she rescue a foreigner first? The answer came before Kai Ju could continue. Bei Xi entered the bath chamber, her sweet perfume banishing the foul odor of the prison. Even Udo opened his eyes.
Xiao Yen turned, hoping for absolution from Bei Xi’s lovely face. She wanted assurance that she’d done the right thing. She’d killed a man. Would he haunt her now? Must she burn incense night and day to appease his angry ghost?
Bei Xi’s entrance prompted the women bathing Udo to get him out of the tub, dried, and clothed in a matter of moments. While they worked, Bei Xi instructed them in a low voice, building alibis for them. They hurried from the room. Finally she turned to Xiao Yen.
“Little Sister,” she said, taking Xiao Yen’s hands. “Can you ever forgive me? I would never have sent you had I known what was going to happen. I know that jade must be polished to become a thing of beauty, but even jade can crack. Please, please forgive me.”
Silent tears rolled out of Xiao Yen’s eyes. Of course, she forgave Bei Xi. It wasn’t Bei Xi’s fault that the guards made her . . . touched her . . . Xiao Yen pushed the thoughts away, sinking them deeper inside herself than where she’d been hiding.
Xiao Yen struggled to speak, to tell Bei Xi she was all right, but she stayed locked in her silence. She couldn’t swim out of her river of calm. All her life, all her time at school, her silence had comforted her.
Now it threatened to drown her.
Bei Xi wrapped her hands around Xiao Yen’s head and pulled it to her chest. Heat from the goddess burned through Xiao Yen, melting her glass walls. She popped up above the water and took a gasping breath.
“It is still my privilege to call you ‘Little Sister.’ ” Bei Xi’s words floated down, through Xiao Yen’s hair, into her ears.
Xiao Yen hadn’t realized she’d longed to hear those words until she did. She drank them down like steaming hot tea on a cold day, feeling their warmth seep into the quicksilver core of her soul. Bei Xi accepted Xiao Yen for who and what she was, no matter what had happened to her, what she had done. A tiny seed of pain lay at the bottom of her soul, where she’d buried it. Her silence no longer trapped her.
“Thank you,” Xiao Yen said as she pulled away.
Bei Xi motioned for Udo to join them. He walked slowly and swayed a little when he stood. His exhaustion emanated from him, like Bei Xi’s perfume flowed from her.
“You must go, and ride through the night, toward the east,” Bei Xi said slowly and carefully in Udo’s language so that Xiao Yen could understand. “Ehran travels with another merchant. You’ll find him there. Vakhtang’s body won’t be discovered until morning. The soldiers won’t come after you for a long time. If ever. Vakhtang’s second in command is ambitious. He’d thank you for taking Vakhtang out of his way before he killed you.” Bei Xi laughed softly, with little actual mirth in her voice.
Then she turned to Xiao Yen and added seriously, “He’ll attack Bao Fang soon.”
Xiao Yen drew in a quick breath. Attack her home? She told Bei Xi, “Then I must go to Bao Fang. Wang Tie-Tie’s sick. And if the city’s going to be attacked . . .” Though Fat Fang had always teased Xiao Yen about doing a man’s work, he’d listen to her and mount a defense for the city. He had to.
“No,” Bei Xi said. Now she spoke rapidly in the language of the Middle Kingdom. “You have to ride with Udo to the coast first. The king of Turic will break the treaty they signed with Emperor Dezong soon. The horsemen’s raids against the border towns are just a start. War is coming, war I can’t prevent. And Udo and his brother must be gone before it starts. They must go home. They’ll be trapped—and killed—if they stay.”
“But Bao Fang . . .” Xiao Yen started.
Bei Xi held up her hand to stop Xiao Yen from continuing. Bei Xi put her head to one side, listening to her other voices, before she said, “Bao Fang is safe until next spring. I make that promise to you, Little Sister. You have time to go to the coast, see the brothers on their way, then make your way back to your home, and prepare your defenses.”
Xiao Yen bit her lip. She wanted to fly back to her home, see Wang Tie-Tie, warn Fat Fang. If Bei Xi said Xiao Yen must do other things first, Xiao Yen would acquiesce. Bei Xi was a goddess, after all.
Udo and Xiao Yen rode through the night, silently, determined to put as much distance between them and Khan Hua as possible. They took a short break at dawn. Udo’s exhaustion overtook him as soon as he lay down. Xiao Yen didn’t want to set up any defense; they were stopping for less than an hour. She’d planned on staying awake and keeping watch, but her own tiredness betrayed her.
Xiao Yen didn’t sleep long. A silent Vakhtang, still in his silver jacket and green pants, awaited her in her dreams. He wouldn’t approach her, or say anything. He just stared at her. Xiao Yen couldn’t determine the expression on his face. Resignation? Remorse?
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