Though Xiao Yen kept her eyes open, she ignored her surroundings. Instead, she tried to see her quiet place, the glassy river, clear, quiet, calm. The familiar movements helped. She did, but didn’t, want to find it. She missed her calm, almost more than her luck or her family. Without deep waters, she felt diminished, and magic was almost impossible. On the other hand, the river frightened her. It had overpowered her, locking her in thick walls of silence.
Her place came into focus, piece by piece. Unfiltered sunlight beat down on the brilliant green banks. The water shone silver and gray, reflecting the light like a mirror. Xiao Yen stood some distance away from the flowing river. She didn’t want to get any closer.
She knew she must.
She concentrated on her feet, not on the flowing water, and took a step forward. Then another.
“Xiao Yen!”
The pine forest surrounded her again. She no longer saw her center. She flowed from the pose she stood in—her left arm across her chest, hand extended, the other curved behind her—to the next, reversing her arms, hoping to recapture where she’d been.
Someone shouted her name a second time.
Xiao Yen let her arms drop and bowed her head, as if in prayer. Next time she’d get closer to her calm. She ignored the sinking feeling in her chest. She would get closer.
Someone called her name a third time.
Before she could reply to the caller, someone else, close behind her, replied for her.
“She’s here.”
Xiao Yen turned around. Tuo Nu stood under the trees behind her.
“What were you doing?” he asked. “Were you practicing your magic? I saw traces of your mage light, over your head.”
Xiao Yen put away her grief and studied the man in front of her. His scholar’s beard moved in a slight breeze Xiao Yen didn’t feel. His eyes engulfed her, devoured her, trying to puzzle out everything about her. He hadn’t been hostile to her, even though she was a rival mage. He was unfailingly polite at all times. She still didn’t trust him. She didn’t want to answer his questions either. Instead, she asked, “What do you mean by ‘mage light’?” Bei Xi had taught her to see magic in shadows, not light.
“Don’t you see magic by light?” Tuo Nu asked.
Xiao Yen refused to give in to his questioning. He wasn’t as bad as Gan Ou, but only slightly better. She started walking toward camp and returned his question with a question. “Is that how you see magic? Through light?”
“Sometimes,” Tuo Nu replied as he hurried to catch up with her. “But it isn’t reliable. Were you just practicing magic?”
“I was trying to find my center,” Xiao Yen said. She regretted the words as they slipped out. When was she going to learn to not say the first thing that came into her head? She no longer had her luck to protect her when she said the wrong thing.
“Your center? That’s interesting. When I seek my center, I stay completely still, in a dark place. I can’t move in bright sunlight and find it,” Tuo Nu replied.
Xiao Yen slowed down. Maybe she should talk with Tuo Nu. She’d never talked with another mage about magic.
“I can find my center without moving, too, at night, when I’m lying on my bed,” Xiao Yen replied as she walked into the clearing.
“You’re so powerful,” Tuo Nu said.
Xiao Yen snorted.
“You are!” Tuo Nu protested. “I can only find my center using one method, not two.”
Xiao Yen stopped and looked at him. “Maybe our magic is just different,” she said.
“Maybe,” Tuo Nu replied in a noncommittal way.
Udo called, “Xiao Yen!” He hurried over to them. “Are you well?” he asked, staring at Tuo Nu.
“Of course,” she said. What was Udo worried about?
The horses and the wagon stood just beyond the trees. One of the horses’ halters jingled as it shook its head.
“What were you doing, out in the woods, alone? Haven’t I told you not to go off like that?” Udo kept staring at Tuo Nu.
“She was practicing magic,” Tuo Nu said.
“Were you?” Udo turned to look at Xiao Yen. His gaze softened.
Xiao Yen whispered, “I was.”
“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Udo asked. He reached out a hand to touch her elbow. Xiao Yen shied away. She didn’t want anyone touching her, didn’t like to be touched, not since Vakhtang’s. “Xiao Yen?” Udo asked.
Finally, Xiao Yen understood. Her cheeks grew warm. She remembered the last time Udo had found her alone in the woods, with Ehran. He was trying to protect her from Tuo Nu.
“I’m fine, Udo. Tuo Nu was like lord in other lord’s garden.” She wanted to tell him that Tuo Nu wasn’t Ehran, or like those guards, those men who forced her to . . .
She squashed the memory and said, “Let’s go.”
“You be careful, ja?” Udo said. He shot one more glare at Tuo Nu, then walked away, toward Ehran.
The brothers were happy to be reunited, though Ehran had avoided Xiao Yen last night. She suspected he was still embarrassed that she’d “saved” him from Bei Xi.
Xiao Yen shrugged at Tuo Nu, indicating her puzzlement, then went to her horse. Udo obviously didn’t trust Tuo Nu, and wanted her to stay away from him. Xiao Yen wanted to follow Udo’s wishes, but that would be difficult. Tuo Nu was a mage who spoke her language, and who asked many questions.
The torrent from Tuo Nu continued while they rode. “Do you have special times of the month when you practice? Or are all times good for you? Is that just you, or for all paper mages?
“Who do you pray to? Do all paper mages pray to Zhang Gua Lao? Or is it just you?
“How do you choose your paper? Do you all do it that way?”
Xiao Yen tried to respond with her own barrage of questions, but Tuo Nu always asked two questions to any one she asked. After a while, she saw a pattern, and said, “Why do you keep asking me if all mages do it the way I do?”
Tuo Nu was silent for a moment before he replied, “I’ve never met, or even heard of, a female mage.”
Xiao Yen didn’t reply. Of course. Girls were supposed to stay at home, get married, give birth to sons. Not practice magic, go traveling with foreigners, or fight.
Or kill.
She pushed away her guilt and pulled on her reins to slow her horse so she no longer rode beside Tuo Nu. She knew she shouldn’t blame the other mage. If she continued to practice magic, she would always be treated like this, always stared at, always questioned. No wonder very few people ever saw or met mages. No wonder only their works were visible. She sighed. It seemed like such a hard life, always being alone, even with other mages. Maybe she should get married when she returned. Gan Ou or Fu Be Be could find her a husband. Giving up her magic didn’t seem so difficult now. She’d already lost so much peace. She felt ten thousand years old.
Xiao Yen watched the trees, trying to draw comfort from their silence, since her own remained elusive. They were shorter than the trees behind Master Wei’s school. Many pines mingled with the hardwoods. Yellow lichen grew on the west sides of some of the trees, and large mushrooms blossomed like ears. The wind usually blew from the east, and sometimes Xiao Yen thought she caught the scent of salt from the ocean. The ground was mossy, moist.
Tuo Nu came back to ride next to Xiao Yen after a while. “I’ve been selfish, haven’t I? I ask you many questions, and never reply to yours. What do you want to know?”
“What are we protecting?” Xiao Yen asked. She’d asked this question more than once, but neither Ehran or Tuo Nu had responded.
“The wagon,” he said, gesturing toward it.
It was a two-wheeled wagon, rimmed with iron. It held tents, cooking gear, and three round, wooden barrels.
“Spices?” Xiao Yen asked. She knew some spices, like black pepper, were worth a lord’s ransom.
“Better. Magic herbs. We call it ‘the Breath of God,’ or ‘the Wind of God.’ ” Tuo Nu chuckled. “When I was with my master, the other apprentices and I ca
lled it ‘God’s Glue.’ ”
“Oh,” Xiao Yen said, still not enlightened.
“Don’t you use magic herbs sometimes to help you in your magic?” he asked, incredulous.
Xiao Yen replied, “No, my master thought it was unnecessary. He said discipline, practicing every day, should be enough. If you relied on powders, you were less of a mage. He also said he’d heard many claims about many different powders, but he’d never known any that had worked.”
“Your master sounds very wise,” Tuo Nu said. “Was he very old?”
“He was,” Xiao Yen said proudly. “He had much experience as a mage.”
“Oh,” said Tuo Nu, disapproving.
Xiao Yen bit her lip and didn’t comment. She pressed her knees against her horse’s ribs, urging it forward. She didn’t want to hear Tuo Nu disparage Master Wei. Plus, why wouldn’t he venerate someone who was as old as her master? Though Tuo Nu looked like someone from the Middle Kingdom, he was as foreign to her as Udo.
Tuo Nu kept talking, as if to himself. “I mean, who wants to practice, and practice, and practice every day? It’s so much work. And for what? Just to be old before your time. Better to use the herbs,” he ended.
Xiao Yen rode up in front of the wagon. Tuo Nu was right. Magic was a lot of work. Generally, she loved practicing, but then there were times, like now, when nothing seemed to go right, when practice just meant work with no reward.
What if she never found her peace again? Her luck was gone. She didn’t want to practice, not like this, every day, for the rest of her life. Maybe she should quit, get married, and raise sons. That would please her mother, but disappoint Wang Tie-Tie. Who was ill, dying. Xiao Yen still needed to do something worthy of an immortal peach. Soon. Before Wang Tie-Tie passed beyond the Yellow River.
Maybe she already had. She’d faced down Vakhtang. He’d been evil, stealing people’s souls so his own life could continue, preventing them from a chance of rebirth. She remembered her dream from the night before, his searching eyes. She’d killed him.
Xiao Yen’s spirits sank far below her into the earth.
There would be no reward for killing.
Xiao Yen got out her practice string and started tying knots. It didn’t take any work to do her knot magic. She’d already found out how to do it without reaching for her quiet. And it took her mind off the cold future ahead.
Vakhtang came to Xiao Yen in her dreams again, still dressed the same as she’d seen him last, the white knots of the silver jacket expanded as if protecting him. His face held a light blue color this time, a pale reflection of the magic that had kept him alive.
Xiao Yen pushed her way across the darkness to where Vakhtang stood. It took all her courage to speak. “Why are you here?” she asked.
Vakhtang stayed frozen for a moment more. Then his face rippled, like the surface of a pond. “As a reminder,” was all he said.
A reminder? Of what?
Suddenly, she felt paper in her hands. As she started to grasp it, something on the other side of the paper, that she couldn’t see, tried to pull it away. Xiao Yen played tug-of-war with an unseen assailant for what seemed like a long time. The paper was resilient, but she couldn’t pull too hard on it, or it would tear. Vakhtang watched her the whole time, his face tinged with regret.
Xiao Yen noticed that as she pulled, Vakhtang grew less real, more like a painting. She sent a quick prayer to Zhang Gua Lao, then pulled the paper one last time. Vakhtang shrank as she pulled, then drained away. Xiao Yen looked down at the piece of paper she had won. It was a portrait of Vakhtang, done with a few strokes in black ink, just enough to capture the essence of the man, the cruelty of his deeds showing in his tight lips, the fear that drove him haunting his eyes.
Xiao Yen quickly folded the portrait into a box, with the picture on the inside, locking Vakhtang away forever.
As soon as she put the box down by her feet, she felt another piece of paper in her hands. For the rest of her dream, that was all Xiao Yen did. Take portraits of Vakhtang and fold them away. Her hands and arms were a blur. Sometimes she grew tired. Then she’d take a deep breath, and find the strength to continue.
Xiao Yen awoke smelling dawn in the night air. She didn’t know if Vakhtang would come back and haunt her again. It didn’t matter. He’d served his purpose, reminding her of one of the basic truths of her life.
If she continued to fold, to do paper magic, sooner or later, she’d have to kill again.
Xiao Yen couldn’t bear the weight of another death on her soul.
She realized her face felt cold. When she reached up to touch it, she found her cheeks were wet, her eyes shedding tears. She rolled over onto her side and faced the dull center of her life. When the tears stopped, she slept.
Xiao Yen crawled from her tent the next morning, unrested. She didn’t meet anyone’s eye, but walked next to the fire and announced loudly, “I’m not practicing magic anymore.”
Ehran nodded and said, “Good.”
Udo cuffed his brother, then came up to Xiao Yen. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why would you give up your magic? Why would you give up such a large part of yourself?”
Xiao Yen blinked back her tears. She couldn’t believe the irony. Someone finally understood how important her magic was—after she’d renounced it.
Tuo Nu came up as well, and asked Xiao Yen in a low voice, in her language, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Xiao Yen considered for a moment. Maybe she could explain to him why. Though Udo understood some things, his essential nature was too violent, too aggressive, to understand this. “The price is too high,” she said. Killing went against all her Buddhist teachings, against her mother’s and sister’s wishes. It pressed too hard against her soul.
“Ah, the, ah, Wind of God lowers the price,” Tuo Nu said.
Xiao Yen thought for a moment, then replied, “Thank you, no.” Forgetting what she had done wouldn’t make it better. She didn’t want the Wind of God to blow away her pain. What would prevent her from becoming like Vakhtang if she couldn’t feel remorse?
She helped herself to the still-warm porridge. She only gave herself one spoonful, and had problems finishing that. She packed up her tent and gear without saying a word to anyone. Udo saddled her horse for her and strapped her things to it.
As they left camp, Udo rode next to Xiao Yen. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“It’s wrong to kill,” Xiao Yen responded. She didn’t know how else to explain it, didn’t know how to tell him of her Buddhist teachings, of her mother, her culture, her soul.
“Vakhtang was evil,” Udo said simply, as if that should absolve her.
Xiao Yen merely looked at him. After a while, Udo pulled forward, up to Tuo Nu. They talked urgently, but Xiao Yen couldn’t make out their words.
Xiao Yen wished she could pull forward, make her horse run, all the way to the coast, then back home. Though Bei Xi had promised the attack against Bao Fang wouldn’t come until the next year, Xiao Yen felt anxious. What if Bei Xi didn’t make a distinction between an attack and a raid? What if bandits set up closer to Bao Fang, threatening the merchants and the markets? What would happen to her family?
Xiao Yen tried to distract herself by naming the trees as they passed. Elm, oak, blue pine, rock pine, scrub pine, bilberry bush, pine . . . Bored, she pulled her practice string from her sleeve and began tying knots, as she always did. First she grew the knot big in her mind, then small. The familiar movements brought her a little calm.
“What’s that?” Tuo Nu asked.
Xiao Yen stared at her hands with a shock. She was practicing magic again. She threw her string to the ground in horror.
“Nothing,” she said, nudging her horse around him. How could she have forgotten her vow so quickly? She flexed her fingers. At least her arms never trembled. She bit back her laugh, afraid she’d never stop if she started. The sun still warmed her back, the pines still smelled sweet. But she’d killed Vakhtang. And o
ne day, she’d have to kill again. Now she knew why no one wanted to hire her. It was awful enough for a man to kill, but for a woman . . .
Maybe she should let Tuo Nu help her, try the Wind of God, lower the payment made by her soul.
Xiao Yen tried to eat the stew they cooked for lunch, but only managed a few bites. She still wouldn’t talk with anyone. After lunch, she sat on the ground next to her horse, moving her hands restlessly. She wanted to go into the woods, just for a short while, go through her poses, maybe find her center. That smacked of practicing magic though, which she’d given up. She sighed, frustrated.
Tuo Nu approached her, carrying a steaming cup of tea. Udo stood behind him. Ehran stood farther back, his arms folded over his chest, looking on in disgust.
“Here,” Tuo Nu said, handing her the cup. “Drink this. It will help.”
Xiao Yen looked up at him, then at Udo. He nodded, then spoke slowly, using simple words, so Xiao Yen would understand him. “Tuo Nu said your essence hurts from killing. But without magic, I think your essence hurts more.”
Xiao Yen took the cup, letting it warm her hands for a moment. The tea smelled like dirt and bitter herbs. She hadn’t known what the Wind of God was supposed to smell like, but she knew that anything this powerful wouldn’t smell sweet.
She drank the whole cup in one gulp. “Now what?” she asked.
Tuo Nu took the cup and helped her lie down on the ground. “We wait. It should only take a short while,” he said.
Xiao Yen closed her eyes and tried to find her center.
There it was. The cool running river, flashing like quicksilver. If she bathed in the waters, maybe she would feel clean. She let her core expand. A dead tree, one she’d never seen before, had fallen on the far side of the river. It was being reabsorbed by the forest. Young plants grew out of it.
Xiao Yen’s heart beat hard in her chest. Death was just another part of life, the endless cycle. She could make offerings for Vakhtang, remember him in her prayers, and hope for the best for him in his next life. It wouldn’t be enough, but it could be a start. Maybe her guilt would abate, and her soul could heal.
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