All the wings on the sides of the dragon had been standing at attention when Xiao Yen had first seen it, but now they lay against its body, relaxed. The red streaks along its snout dulled to a somber color. The spikes around its head lay against its back, making the head more snakelike. Its whiskers moved like winter wheat blown by the wind as it bobbed its head in time with the unheard music the cranes danced to. Its eyes had softened in color as well, to a misty gray.
Now the cranes stood farther apart with their heads stretched toward each other, weaving back and forth with their necks. They stayed focused at first, the heads jerking with great speed. Then the pattern spread out, and they moved their heads more to the sides as they walked closer to the dragon.
The dragon looked pleased, as if being courted by two ladies.
Then one of the cranes struck out, snapped at and bit the belly of the dragon.
The dragon pulled itself back, more surprised than hurt.
Xiao Yen examined the sides of its snout. Was it going to blow fire again? No. The red streaks remained a dull orange. The spikes around its head stayed flat. It just looked puzzled. It pushed itself back a little, so it was outside the circle of the dancing cranes. A moment later, it was mesmerized again.
The next time, both cranes snapped at the dragon, one biting a wing, the other a foreclaw.
The dragon looked uncomfortable. Xiao Yen’s magic had lulled it. The dance of the cranes was so beautiful.
The cranes snapped again. They obviously didn’t want the dragon there. They were driving it toward the sea.
The dragon looked over the two bobbing heads at Xiao Yen.
Xiao Yen met the dragon’s eye. She drifted in the gray clouds there. She could get lost in that fog, traveling through ancient mysteries, seeing foreign lands, dancing to the moods of wings and the tide. What she saw surprised her. The dragon had risen at her welcoming dance because it was lonely. Did she want to be like Lui Ji and live under the ocean in the dragon palace? She would be immortal at the dragon court, providing him with dancing cranes and other entertainment, learning more powerful magic every day.
Xiao Yen closed her eyes. She wouldn’t be alone at the dragon court. Other mages would seek her out. She’d be respected, and honored, all her days.
She’d be a foreigner though, like Udo and Ehran. It would never be the Middle Kingdom. It would never be home. She had to see Wang Tie-Tie, even without an immortal peach. Plus, she had to warn Fat Fang about the coming attack. She bowed low to the dragon, honored. When she raised her head, she didn’t look in its eyes again.
“Honorable Dragon, you must go home. It is better to venerate you from afar, than to have you near, and be afraid. Go home, sir. Please.”
At the end of her speech, the dragon turned its head and looked beyond the temple, toward the gray sea. One of the cranes nipped at it. The dragon moved back a little more without turning around.
Xiao Yen started to sing. It was an old song, written by a soldier, filled with all his longing for his home, the watery fields, the cool evenings, the cry of the cicadas. The dragon shook its head, once, twice, as she sang the last verse. Then it launched itself into the air, like a snake sliding into water. The two cranes followed it.
Xiao Yen felt her heart rise as well. Would the dragon go home? Or would it circle back and attack the town? She watched it gain altitude, then dive, a gray streak, into the sea. The cranes flashed their wings and dove with it. Relief splashed over Xiao Yen like an ocean wave. The puppet strings that had held her upright were cut. She wanted to slump to the ground, and weep and sing at the same time, yet there was something more she needed to do.
Xiao Yen inverted her umbrella, picked up the two ashlike paper cranes at her feet, and placed them in its bowl. She walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down to the sea where the dragon and both the cranes had disappeared. She waited until the wind abated for a moment before she turned her umbrella back over. The paper cranes fell out. The wind picked up the ash and scattered it on the waves. She hoped that the cranes would stay with the dragon and dance at its court. The dragon might be lonely, but at least it had a home. She let her umbrella fall as well. She had no more use for it.
When she turned, she saw something glimmering where the dragon had been sitting. Her heart skipped a beat.
She walked to the glistening spot. A whisker had fallen from the dragon’s chin. It was as wide as her little finger. Xiao Yen picked it up, folded it in half, then twisted it upon itself. It shone like the purest gold, and didn’t untwist. She tied it around her neck with a strong holding knot. The whisker warmed to her skin instantly.
“Luck is what you make it,” Xiao Yen thought as she started walking back across the plain.
As was the rest of her life.
* * *
Xiao Yen pushed through crowds as she left the dock. It was market day in Khuangho. Udo had spoken with pride about the ship he and Ehran were taking. It wouldn’t take them all the way to their home—just to a port Xiao Yen had never heard of—but from there it would be only a short journey overland. The whole journey might only take them two years.
Xiao Yen hadn’t been impressed. The body of the boat was shorter than the sea dragon’s, and under the decks it was cramped and smelled of mildew. She wouldn’t have voluntarily sailed around the harbor in the boat, so she decided to go to the dragon temple to pray for Udo and Ehran.
She also wanted to pray for her family and to thank the dragon once again for the emblem of her luck. Tuo Nu had helped her find a good position for going back to Bao Fang, with an easygoing merchant who’d wanted some extra protection traveling to the capital. She was leaving the next day. She didn’t know how Tuo Nu had talked the merchant into accepting a girl to provide his protection, but she was glad he had. She needed to get back to Bao Fang, to warn Fat Fang of the coming attacks. Even though she’d failed Wang Tie-Tie, she still looked forward to seeing her family.
Merchants and farmers sold their wares on the main road of Khuangho, lining each side. They called to her as she passed, offering to sell her wheat, millet, onions, carrots, tea (both packaged and prepared), to fix her shoes, or tell her a story. Every second stall burned incense, thankful their town still stood. The sweet scent mingled with the slightly salty air, blessing everyone. Xiao Yen paused once to buy a steamed bun, filled with a sweet, nutty paste. The man at the cart recognized her as “the lady who charmed the dragon,” and wouldn’t take any money from her.
The sky was blue from end to end, with only a few very high thin clouds. Tuo Nu had told Xiao Yen they were leftover trails from the dragon’s flight. Though the sun was warm, the wind blew sharply from the ocean. Xiao Yen warmed her fingers on her bun as she nibbled at it. The sound of the wind from the outside was louder than the sound she heard inside her head. She enjoyed both.
As she neared the end of the main road, where it narrowed to just a trail, the number of people selling things thinned. Xiao Yen suddenly felt anxious about going back to the dragon temple again. Her heart pounded with each step. Should she go? What if the dragon returned? Or that angry priest? If it even had been a priest.
Then she heard a rattling sound, rhythmic and hollow, like metal against a dry reed. A singsong voice accompanied the beat. A crowd gathered around the last man on the road. Xiao Yen paused. Maybe it would be all right if she didn’t go to the temple immediately. She walked to the side of the road to watch with the rest of the crowd.
An old fisherman stood on the side of the road. The woven basket next to him contained the fish that he sold. He shook a bamboo pole. Something inside the pole made the clacking noise that had first attracted Xiao Yen. His face held only a light map of wrinkles, yet Xiao Yen had the impression he was extremely old. His eyes held on to the dark brown color of a young boy. His jacket had faded to a muddy beige from too many washings. Muscular calves bulged beneath his rolled-up pants. Mysterious bags hung from his wide leather belt. His teeth flashed like brilliant pearls in the sunlight.<
br />
The fisherman told stories about every fish as he sold it. The person standing next to Xiao Yen translated the fisherman’s words for her: this fish hadn’t gone to school, that fish had never seen the sun before so it had the whitest flesh, the next fish was young like spring bamboo, and just as tender. The crowd melted away when the fisherman sold the last of his fish. Xiao Yen was walking away, too, when the fisherman called to her.
“Pretty girl in the dark blue jacket! Won’t you help me for a moment?” The fisherman called to her in the language of the Middle Kingdom, using a rich, cultured accent.
Xiao Yen turned back. The fisherman grinned at her like a foreigner. His teeth were faultlessly placed—no gaps or irregularities—white with fine shading, like high-quality jade. The wrinkles around his eyes reflected many summers of looking into the sun. The eyes themselves held depths greater than the ocean. There was something more to this man than Xiao Yen could see, much more.
Xiao Yen picked up one of the woven baskets, while the old man took the other three. It was heavier than she’d expected—the inside was lined with leaves, then covered with wax to make it waterproof. It smelled of fish and saltwater. She followed the fisherman to a small shack. All the way there, the old man chanted in a language Xiao Yen didn’t know, like a priest saying his morning prayers on his way to temple.
He placed his baskets under the eaves of the shack, next to dozens of other baskets, then indicated Xiao Yen should do the same. When she turned around, she found the old man was staring at her intently. She felt like a pika under the gaze of a plains hawk.
“Thank you Xiao Yen,” he said, bowing low. “This town is indebted to you. I am indebted to you, more than you know.” He straightened up, leaned on his bamboo pole, and tilted his head to one side. “Would you do an old man a great honor and accompany me for a short while? We have things to discuss, you and I.” He smiled at her again, like a father looking upon his first son.
Xiao Yen heard herself agree, though the words came out of her mouth without her volition.
The old man said, “Good.” Then he turned and headed up the road again. Xiao Yen followed. A little way along, where the road narrowed into the coastal trail, he took a side path that Xiao Yen hadn’t noticed before. It wound between boulders bigger than the fisherman’s shack, a small brown ribbon through the bright grass. The wind blew constantly from the sea, ruffling Xiao Yen’s hair, driving away the heat from the sun.
Xiao Yen and the old fisherman didn’t talk. She followed him along the trail and tried to see who or what he was. She thought she saw blue in his shadow, but then the wind blew it away. She tried to see him with her mind’s eye. The image of a solid, burning core—like a flaming sword—came to her. The flames burned stronger than the sun, like they would burn forever.
Xiao Yen paused, one foot in midair.
Wang Tie-Tie’s stories of a fisherman with perfect teeth came back to her.
Her foot hit the ground, jarring her. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She couldn’t stop shaking inside.
When they crested the next hill, Xiao Yen caught her breath in surprise. They were approaching Crane Bay. The marshy grass waved in the wind, the green sparkling as though wet emeralds were strewn through it. Three herons stalked the edges of the marsh on their stiltlike legs. A few black-tailed seagulls bobbed on the waves. The far side of the bay was protected by a tall craggy cliff. Shelves jutted out from the vertical face, with the remains of nests sitting on them and long white streaks of droppings. The wind died down as they dropped below the head of the hill.
A brightly painted pagoda lay ahead of them. Its gray-tile roof curled up at the corners, supported by large red-lacquered poles. Green planks ran at waist level between the pillars, perfect for leaning against and watching the cranes. It housed a small altar dedicated to the White Crane boy, who’d excelled in good deeds when he’d been alive, and now sometimes brought answers to prayers from the gods.
The old fisherman led Xiao Yen to the pavilion, sat down on one of the benches, and invited her to join him. Xiao Yen approached hesitantly. She wanted to kneel and press her forehead on the ground before him, yet she didn’t want to seem presumptuous.
She sat down on the edge of the bench and peered at the old man, wanting a sign from him to tell her how to act, how to treat him.
He smiled at her again, showing his perfect teeth, then laughed. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
“Oh, honorable sir,” Xiao Yen began, slipping off the bench and sinking to her knees. How could she dare to have her head at the same level as the patron saint of her chosen profession, the immortal Zhang Gua Lao? The same man who’d loved Wang Tie-Tie so many years before?
“My dear girl,” he said, interrupting her. “Please, sit, and talk with an ancient man. You can call me Old Zhang,” he said, patting the bench beside him.
Xiao Yen rose and sat next to him, her back stiff, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes on the floor. She wanted to stare at him, to touch him to make sure he was real, but she didn’t want to be rude or treat him like a foreigner.
“I am in your debt, you know,” he said.
Xiao Yen replied, “No, it is I who am in your debt, for allowing this unworthy person into your presence.”
Old Zhang continued as if he hadn’t heard Xiao Yen. “Vakhtang killed my family. All of them. I have no relations left to walk this earth, to watch over. I swore revenge, but my fellow immortals cautioned patience. Vakhtang kept living, kept doing evil deeds. You put an end to that. I am in your debt,” he finished, bowing his head low.
Staying bent over, he twisted his head so he was looking at her almost upside down. He looked so comical Xiao Yen started to laugh. She put her hand up to cover her mouth so he wouldn’t be offended. “A cautious one you are,” he said, straightening up. “But bright. And steady as a mountain, now.” He bowed his head toward her, approving.
Xiao Yen blushed and looked at her hands again. Old Zhang didn’t say anything for a moment. She heard a rustling. She glanced up. He was taking things from the bags on his belt and placing them on the bench between them.
“I want you to choose your reward,” he said in a tone that reminded her of Master Wei.
Two items sat on the bench. One was a gleaming, white-paper box. Loops twisted upon themselves covered the top. It glowed with its own internal light.
The other item was a peach. It also glowed, a warm miniature sun. Just looking at it calmed Xiao Yen. It was perfectly proportioned, with a slight red blush down one side.
“The box,” Old Zhang explained, “contains the gold from the rat dragon. The peach is from the garden of Xi Mong Yu. It’s sometimes called a peach of immortality. It will take you to Peng-lai, the Isle of the Blessed, where you can live forever in peace. I know that your short time on the wheel of life has been trying.”
Xiao Yen’s urge to kneel and place her head on the floor returned. She gulped back her wonder at his understanding and forced herself to consider his offer. She stared at the peach, then at the box, for many heartbeats before she responded. The wind in her head rustled, and her calm solidified.
“I see three choices, not two,” she started.
Old Zhang smiled, pleased.
Xiao Yen continued. “The box is two gifts. First is the box itself. You would have to show me how to open it. With diligent study, my master, Master Wei, I’m sure, could learn how to recreate it. After many years of practice, if I proved not to be too stupid, maybe I could learn the form as well. That is a selfish reward, just for myself. I will not choose it.
“The gold inside would not be for me, but for my former client, Udo. He and his brother are banished, and need money to buy their way back into their land. Though I consider them my friends, they are still foreigners, not from the Middle Kingdom. So I do not choose this gift.
“My Wang Tie-Tie, Wang Kong-Jing, met you when she was a young girl. She’s always dreamed of havin
g such a peach, so that is what I would choose as my reward, that I might bring it to my aunt, that she might live forever in peace, off the wheel of death and rebirth.”
Xiao Yen’s quiet expanded up to her shoulders and sent a shiver through her arms, behind her ears, and up to the top of her skull. The cliff in front of her was as solid as her resolve.
Old Zhang looked surprised. “Wang Kong-Jing?” he asked.
“You met her in Bao Fang, before she was married. Her maiden name was Li.”
Old Zhang stared at the floor in front of him, thinking hard. A slow smile crept across his face. “Mei-Mei,” he said, caressing the name with his tongue. A golden light sprang up in the spot where he stared. It was full of dust motes, some shiny, some dark. They rearranged themselves into the outline of a beautiful woman in long robes, holding a fan. “Mei-Mei,” Old Zhang said again. Then he blew at the light. It faded and the motes scattered to the corners of the pavilion. He looked sad now.
Xiao Yen didn’t know what to say.
After another moment, the old man picked up the peach, raised it to eye level, bowed his head, and handed it to Xiao Yen. Just as formally, Xiao Yen accepted the peach and placed it in her sleeve. She slipped off the bench, knelt, and bowed low to Old Zhang, then left the pavilion.
She hadn’t taken more than a few steps up the dirt path before he called her back.
“Come, Ehran,” Tuo Nu said, helping the portly foreigner to stand. “Time to go back to your inn.” Both Udo and Ehran had drunk a lot of wine celebrating with Xiao Yen and Tuo Nu. The next week, if the weather was fine, they would begin their journey back to their land. Xiao Yen started back to Bao Fang the next day. They’d gathered at Tuo Nu’s rooms for one last evening together.
Ehran turned and bowed toward Xiao Yen, then said something. It took a moment for Xiao Yen to realize that he’d tried to say something in her language.
Paper Mage Page 32