Forest of a Thousand Lanterns

by Julie C. Dao

  “He loves me. And I . . .”

  “Yes? Go on.” She cackled when Xifeng remained silent. “You can’t even say it, can you? You can’t love him back, after all? I’ve taught you better than I expected.”

  “I do love him,” Xifeng said fiercely, throwing all caution to the wind. “And you could never teach me something you’ve never felt.” There was a long silence, as though in professing her love, she had uttered a vile obscenity.

  Guma lifted the cane and ran the end of it gently over her niece’s cheek. Xifeng went rigid. A bead of perspiration trickled down her back, but she did not take her eyes off the older woman.

  “The palace,” Guma said in a pleasant voice, as though they were drinking tea and chatting about the weather. “You’ve decided to believe me, then? You shall be the Empress. I’m pleased you’re taking it seriously at last.”

  “I never meant to doubt you. But I didn’t know whether I would have chosen that life for myself, if I could.” Xifeng let out a frayed breath. “I still don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

  Guma lowered the cane and leaned upon it. “Women never choose for themselves. It is for their fathers, mothers, and husbands to do so, and since you haven’t any of those, you must listen to me. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, Guma.”

  “Tell me, how will you travel to the Imperial City?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll take his horse, I suppose.” Xifeng’s eyes flickered to the cane again.

  “And where will you find the money for provisions?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How will you enter the city without paperwork? Or the palace?”

  Xifeng’s face warmed under her aunt’s smirk. They seemed such simple matters, ones she and Wei ought to have discussed. She had assumed he would have a plan in mind. But why should he be the only one planning? “I have some embroidery I could sell at market,” she said. “That will buy us food for a day or two. As for entering the city, we could persuade a merchant to let us join his caravan. Wei can sharpen his tools and weapons as payment.”

  Guma tutted gently. “You say this boy loves you, but he hasn’t helped you plan at all. He knows nothing of caring for you.” Her voice grew softer. “Let me go with you, to help you.”

  In that moment, Xifeng understood what she had been afraid to admit: Guma knew exactly how to use her. One kind word, and Xifeng would do whatever she wanted. And it would continue: the scolding, beating, and examining every morsel she ate and every minute she spent. It made no difference whether they were in a forsaken town or the Imperial Palace.

  “No,” she heard herself say. “My life and my destiny are my own.”

  The bamboo cane came down with a sickening crack. Xifeng collapsed, gathering the sack to her body as she closed her eyes against the blinding pain in her shoulder. She felt Guma’s claws trying to turn her over, the nails pinching and scratching her skin.

  “You owe your love to me!” her aunt snarled, punctuating each sentence with a vicious poke of the cane. “You owe everything to me. Who could love you more than I do? After all I’ve done for you, and you’re ready to abandon me after a tumble with some good-for-nothing.” She paused, muttering, “You’re just like your mother.”

  Xifeng felt a sob escape at those words, which hurt more than the cane ever would. This was what Guma thought of her after all: weak, useless, contemptible. “I tried so hard to please you,” she wept. “I did everything you asked of me.”

  “It’s a pity Ning wasn’t born beautiful. She’d be one hundred times the niece you are.”

  Rage swept through Xifeng, scorching the edges of her sorrow. It gave her the courage to look her aunt in the eye, and when she did, Guma’s cruel smile strengthened her even more. “I wish she were your niece,” she spat. “I’d rather be dead than shackled to you my whole life. I don’t ever want to be as bitter and withered and poisoned as you are.”

  The cane whipped upward and knocked Xifeng beneath the chin. Guma placed the tip of the cane on her face and let it rest there delicately, like a kiss. “Careful, child,” she whispered. “One movement and I could take out your eye. I could break your nose. And where would you be without that beauty? Would life be as easy? Would men still give you gifts? Would Wei still want you without that face?” Xifeng cried out as Guma applied pressure to the cane. It bit into her smooth, blooming cheek, and something warm trickled along her jaw. “Let me tell you a little secret, lotus flower. Your beauty is all you are, and all you have. Your only weapon.”

  Xifeng gritted her teeth as Guma leaned forward, hand poised on the head of the cane, ready to drive it through her skull.

  “I wonder,” her aunt murmured, “what would happen if I took it all away.”

  The anger surged, taking control of Xifeng’s limbs. She twisted her body, feeling the cane cut into her face as she lifted her foot and kicked out into the woman’s soft stomach. There was a sound like a fist in a sack of rice, and Guma collapsed, the cane rattling uselessly on the floor as she folded herself in half. Her face contorted with pain and shock.

  “Guma,” Xifeng gasped, her fury bleeding away as quickly as it had come. “What have I done?” But her aunt was crawling, fingers stretching for the cane, and Xifeng hurried to pick it up. She held it out of reach and stood over the woman who had raised her, tasting the sourness of guilt in her mouth. “You will not beat me any more,” she said quietly.

  “You . . . are all I have,” Guma wheezed. “I have been . . . the best mother I could.”

  “A true mother would love me. Cherish me.” Tears burned the wound on Xifeng’s face. “I’ve never been anything to you but a possession, to be used for your own ends.”

  “Xifeng . . .”

  “I am afraid to be without you. I am afraid to face this Fool without you by my side,” she admitted. “But I have to believe I can follow my destiny on my own.”

  She saw despair in Guma’s eyes, but knew better than to hope it came from love. Her aunt only mourned the loss of the riches she might have had at the palace. With one hand, she would push Xifeng toward the Emperor, and with the other, she would reap the rewards for herself.

  “I’m sorry for hurting you.” Xifeng’s hands shook as she snapped the cane in half over her leg.

  “We only have each other,” Guma pleaded. “You are all I have left . . . daughter.”

  Xifeng closed her stinging eyes so she wouldn’t see her aunt’s pleading face. She grabbed her sack and held it close to her body, like a shield.

  Guma’s cajoling manner shifted instantly at this display of resolve. “You’ll always be mine. You’ll never be free of me,” she spat. Her eyes flickered to the side and Xifeng tensed, knowing wounded animals were always more dangerous. Guma had taught her that, too.

  But she was only looking at a basin of water on the floor nearby. Xifeng caught a glimpse of her own reflection: oval face, slanting eyes, raven hair spilling over her shoulders. She saw the way she held herself, chin lifted and shoulders back to display her long neck and small, high breasts. Just as Guma had instructed her. An obedient puppet to the very last.

  She turned her head and gasped at the blur of angry scarlet marring her left cheek. “What have you done?” she whispered, holding her trembling fingers over it.

  “It’s your own fault, making me so angry.” The gentle tone had returned. “Come, let me wash the blood away and put some salve on it. You are my child, Xifeng, and I’ll always take care of you.”

  Even flat on her back in pain, Guma had the power to make her want to collapse, to cast the die once more by running into her arms and hoping this time, she would be embraced and not beaten. But the cut on Xifeng’s face and the fragments of the cane in her hands told her the truth.

  “Goodbye, Guma,” Xifeng said, waves of fury and sorrow rippling through her. “I’ll give the Serpent God your regards if
I see him again.”

  “I hope it scars, you ungrateful little snake!” her aunt howled after her. “You’re nothing but a disappointment . . .”

  In the corridor, Xifeng pushed past a wide-eyed Ning, who held out a lumpy cloth sack that she accepted wordlessly. And then she left that house behind forever, holding the memory of Guma’s terrified expression like a flame in her black heart.

  For eighteen years, the dusty, forgotten town had been Xifeng’s world. The ramshackle buildings, the swamps with their prowling rock-skinned alligators, and the river on the forest’s edge were all she had ever known. But now, from the back of Wei’s old horse, it seemed the true world lay open to her. She could go anywhere and do anything.

  “Wouldn’t you like to see the desert?” she asked, her arms wrapped around Wei. She pressed her face into his shoulders, inhaling the familiar scent of forge fire and grass. He smelled like home, and the thought of taking a piece of home with her made leaving a bit less terrifying.

  “I’m guessing that’s a little farther from here than the Imperial City.”

  She heard the smile in his voice and felt a rush of giddy happiness. “You don’t regret leaving with me, then?”

  “I was the one urging you to go,” he said, laughing as he closed his fingers over hers. “My home and my life are with you, wherever you are.”

  “And mine are with you.” The words slipped out before she could help it. She breathed him in, closing her eyes against the painful reality of his love. To stand at a distance was to feel its comfort . . . but to come closer would be letting him believe something that could never be, if Guma’s prediction came to pass.

  Thinking of her aunt made Xifeng lightly touch her cheek, wincing at the sting. Each step took her farther away, and she didn’t know whether to feel elated or sad.

  “Does your face hurt much?” Wei asked, sensing her movement.

  She placed her palm over the wound. “It’s fine.”

  “You’ll miss her at first, I’m sure. But with time, it will grow easier.”

  “I know she never loved me, but she must feel my loss. She has only Ning now.” Xifeng suddenly remembered the sack the girl had given her and opened it in wonder. “She packed food for us. A carrot, two plums, some mushrooms, and a handful of chestnuts.”

  “There’s half a supper for one of us,” Wei teased, and she hit him playfully.

  “She must have stolen what she could. She knew it wouldn’t end well with Guma.” The fruits were bruised and the mushrooms withered, but Xifeng smiled all the same. Poor little Ning, who had wished to return her kindness. “The desert was her favorite, too, out of all the five kingdoms of Feng Lu. She’d forget to keep sewing whenever I recited a poem about Surjalana. How Guma would scold!”

  “Surjalana.” Wei rolled the name around in his mouth. “It sounds like a delicious pastry.”

  Xifeng laughed. She had always been drawn to tales of the fiery kingdom of sand and the spiteful Lord of Surjalana, the god who had once ruled it. “I read all I could about it. I wanted to run away and wander its marble cities. Sleep under the stars with a caravan of goods to sell.”

  “You were lucky. Your aunt did well to give you an education,” Wei admitted gruffly.

  He had worked all through childhood, helping his aging parents on their farm, and there had never been time for anything else. He was the last and best of four sons, his brothers vanishing with promises of riches only to return in shrouds, having met not fortune on the road but Death himself in the guise of illness and war. After his parents died, Wei found work in town. His education lay in the blades and arrows he shaped with fire, and in each coat of plates he assembled with his own hands. He had wrapped himself in swordcraft the way Xifeng had in tales of far-off lands, and had found his own comfort there.

  “I may not be educated, but it won’t be hard to find work in the Imperial City. I’ll seek out another craftsman and make a name for myself.” Wei paused. “Going there was what Guma wanted you to do, wasn’t it? What did she intend for you, anyway?”

  “To go to the palace and be . . . a maid or a lady-in-waiting,” she lied, grateful he couldn’t see her face. “There’s money and stability there.”

  “You don’t need to earn your own living. I’ll take care of you.”

  She only hugged him in answer, and turned her eyes to the trees to soothe her heart. The main road curved along the southern edge of the forest. She could already smell wet bark and rich soil, growing nameless things deep in the belly of the woods. The treetops stirred in the light wind and beckoned to them like fingers.

  Wei peered at the sky. “We have another hour before sundown. There’s an encampment where we can stay the night.” He patted a bundle near his leg, which gently clanked with metal. “In a few days, we’ll find a trading post and I can sell these swords. That should buy us enough provisions for the rest of the journey.”

  “You’ve traded there before.”

  “Many times. I know this road well,” he said confidently. “It’s the largest trade route across the continent of Feng Lu. There’ll be people from those other lands you’ve read about.”

  As he promised, they passed many riders along the way, some with their families in tow. Xifeng surveyed them with eager curiosity, noting the women in particular.

  One woman passed in the back of a wagon with two children at her breasts. A brilliant blue scarf fringed with gold covered her hair, brightening her rich, dark brown skin. The eyes staring back at Xifeng were a surprising shade of amber brown, like the tips of the waving grasses, and were ringed with black kohl. They held her gaze steadily—almost insolently, Xifeng thought, hastily sweeping her hair over her damaged cheek. A powerful sensation surged beneath her ribs like raw hunger, then disappeared as soon as the wagon passed out of sight.

  The stranger had worn her beauty so comfortably, like it was a mere fact of life. Only one part of her, and not the whole. But did she, too, resent the fact that her beauty spoke for her? And once it did, would nothing else matter because people already knew what they wanted to know?

  Wei’s voice broke into Xifeng’s thoughts. “There’s the encampment I spoke of.”

  They were on the crest of a hill, traveling down to where the land flattened into a clearing ringed with juniper shrubs. The wind carried the scent of roasting meat. Someone had hewn two sturdy branches and positioned them vertically on either side of a cheerful fire, laying a spit in the grooves. A wild boar hung from the spit, lumps of fat sizzling in the flames.

  Xifeng’s stomach rumbled. She felt relieved when they were met with open, friendly faces. Four men in foreign armor were cooking, and two monks in somber brown robes kept quietly to themselves on the edge of the camp.

  “Might there be room for two more by your fire, friends?” Wei asked politely, addressing the nearest soldier, who was tall, bearded, and looked to be in his forties. The man spoke to his companions in a strange, lilting language Xifeng recognized. She had heard it once from merchants staying in her town. They had come from Kamatsu, the kingdom across the sea, looking for cheap lodgings on their way to the Imperial City.

  The youngest soldier remained quiet during the discussion. Like Wei, he had a shaven head, but whereas it made Wei look fearsome, it only accentuated this man’s boyish face. His bright eyes rested on Xifeng. “Do not think us unwelcoming,” he said in the common tongue. “Our leader’s merely wondering where we might find two more plates.” He spoke the language of the Great Forest, the center of the empire, to perfection. Xifeng wished fleetingly that her education had included other countries’ languages as well, but Guma hadn’t thought it necessary.

  “We have our own,” Wei said quickly, “but would not presume . . .”

  “You are not presuming,” the older, bearded soldier answered. “Come and rest your weary feet by our campfire, friends, and share our meal. It would be our honor.” />
  Xifeng dismounted and returned the boyish soldier’s shy smile, making sure her hair still covered her blemished cheek. Up close, she saw that his armor was etched with a strange sea animal, curved and spiny like a fish, but with the head of a horse.

  “Please sit,” he said, eyes still on Xifeng, “and my friend Hideki there will serve you. And your husband.” There was a question in his voice, but she noted Wei’s tight-lipped expression, so she moved closer to the fire to thaw her chilled hands in silence.

  Except for the bearded soldier named Hideki, who was placing meat on Wei’s plates, all of the men were watching her, including the monks. Wei handed her the food and threw a heavy arm over her shoulders. Not to warm her, she knew, but to show his ownership of her, as of a sword or a horse.

  When had she gone from being Guma’s possession to Wei’s?

  But the minute she took a bite of the piping-hot meat, the skin golden and crispy, Xifeng forgot everything but the taste. Salty, flavorful, and rich, everything Guma’s food had not been. She fought the urge to lick the grease off her hands.

  “Don’t eat too much,” Wei whispered. “Your stomach isn’t used to it. It might make you sick.” She ignored his command and he shrugged, nettled. “Are you going to the coast, friends?” he asked the group.

  “We’re coming from the coast,” Hideki replied. “We’re escorting our ambassador to Emperor Jun on important business.” He made a gesture of respect to a man who sat across the fire from him, and Xifeng forgot to eat for a moment as she stared.

  She had never seen such a small adult. His arms and legs were the length of a child’s, but his face and countenance were those of a grown man. He was rather handsome, she thought. The firelight flickered across a furrowed brow, strong chin, and elegant nose above a fine silk tunic, suggesting wealth. A coat of plates and a sword lay beside him, but perhaps they were merely decorative. She couldn’t imagine him fighting men so much larger than himself.

  “I consider our journey equal parts business and pleasure. I’m greatly enjoying the beauty of the continent,” the dwarf said courteously. He had the calm, deep voice of someone accustomed to being listened to, and indeed everyone quieted as he spoke. Xifeng saw that his men regarded him with the utmost respect. “My name is Shiro, ambassador to the king of Kamatsu.” He introduced Ken, the young soldier, and Isao, who wore a silky mustache like the plume of some ridiculous bird. Xifeng thought he likely used the blade of his sword to admire it.