Forest of a Thousand Lanterns

by Julie C. Dao

  But Wei shook his head resolutely. “Sword-making is the craft I know, and it makes money. I can take care of you. You won’t have to serve at court like that witch wanted after all.”

  “The tengaru queen told me I would end up at the palace one day.” Xifeng placed a hand over her heart. “And she told me this was real. Something inside me threatens to poison me.”

  Wei took her face in his hands. “There is nothing evil inside you that your Guma didn’t put there. This is what the queen likely meant.”

  “She told me I can choose not to listen to the creature and somehow it will go away.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I could save myself, and more besides. But I’m afraid, Wei. I’m afraid I’m not strong enough and it will consume me.”

  He wiped her face tenderly with a calloused hand. “You are strong enough. You chose to leave Guma and come with me, didn’t you? She tried to make you twisted like her, only you can’t see it because you love her for some reason.”

  “Wei . . .”

  “Listen to me. She raised you in the way a farmer raises oxen. For a purpose, not love. She never saw what you really are. You need to let go of her, Xifeng, and be free.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It is simple. Forget her and her teachings.” Wei’s fingers hovered over her heart. “Let no one have this but me. I love you as you are. I’ve tried to tell you for years.”

  Xifeng closed her eyes, imagining the life he had described to her: a quiet home where they’d raise babies with hearts like his, hearts that loved deeply and faithfully. She could turn her back on Guma and her destiny forever.

  But what do I want?

  Choosing Wei would be choosing obscurity. He would shield her from the world and she would know nothing but the walls of their home. She would wonder every day if their children had somehow inherited the monster within her. She would have Wei forever, but there would be no glory: nothing to work for, no one to admire her, no cause for which to fight. Loving Wei might be the end of her freedom before it had even truly begun.

  But loving Guma might be the end of her sanity.

  The creature would poison her from inside, and she would weaken more each day until she could no longer resist it. And even if she fled to the corners of the earth, it would be with her, this being of malevolent dark despair, haunting her in her sleep and terrorizing her when she woke. The tengaru prophesized that two destinies would shape their world—but which was hers? Would she save herself and Feng Lu, or would she send them to destruction?

  According to the tengaru queen, Xifeng had both the poison and the antidote. Somehow, she had to hold fast to the latter, whatever it was—she had to resist.

  “I’m afraid,” she said again.

  Wei stroked her hair. “I know. But I’m here, and I always will be.”

  If only you knew, she wanted to say, but could not.

  Instead, she remained silent and let him believe what he said. It was the kindest thing she could do for him.

  The next morning, Xifeng knelt in Akira’s garden, picking flowers for Shiro’s room. Heavy clouds veiled the sun and threatened rain, but she lifted her face to the sky, enjoying the smell of an impending storm.

  “Gloomy day,” Hideki called from where he was feeding the horses. “Will you and Wei still explore the city, as you planned?”

  “I hope so. I’d like to see more of it.” In fact, she had a very specific destination in mind. She grasped a flower by its stem and wrenched it from the earth, feeling satisfied when it gave way. If Wei refused to grasp his own dream, then she would seize it for him. It pained her to know that helping him might mean losing him—being parted from him forever. But I love him, she tried to tell herself, and if this will make him happy, I must let him go. I’m doing this for Wei. She ignored the tiny laughing voice that remained unconvinced, that knew the disturbing truth: the path she preferred would always place her own happiness first.

  Hideki came over, scuffing his boots in the dirt. “I want to apologize if I insulted you yesterday. It was not my intent,” he said awkwardly. “You never mentioned going to court before, and it took me by surprise. I only wished to warn you of the dangers you might face.”

  Xifeng surveyed the flowers before her. “It’s not something Wei and I see eye to eye on, either. But I’d like to honor my aunt’s wishes.”

  He cleared his throat. “A piece of advice, then. I don’t know how it is here, but in Kamatsu, the eunuchs had a great deal of power.”

  “The half men?”

  The soldier gave a start. “That’s quite an insult.”

  “That’s what my Guma called them,” Xifeng recalled. “But she always believed the concubines to be more dangerous. I know eunuchs guard the king’s harem and have many responsibilities in the palace. Yet how much power could a personal servant wield?”

  “You’d be surprised. Some are highly respected in the royal household and even tutor young princes. Our queen had a favorite in whom she confided. If you go to court, befriend the eunuchs. They may prove useful.” He gave her an encouraging nod, and she felt ashamed of her own scornful behavior the day before.

  “Would you like to join Wei and me on our walk? I’ll bring these to Shiro and we can go.” She beamed when he gave his ready consent, and went into the pallet room, where Shiro was sitting up and chatting with Akira. His face brightened when he saw the blossoms.

  “You’ve brought the garden to me. Thank you, my dear.”

  “It’s only fair, since you can’t join us outside today,” Xifeng replied.

  “You’d better take an umbrella,” Akira said stiffly, handing her one without a second glance. She adjusted Shiro’s pillow, pushing the vase of flowers away as she did so.

  “Akira’s certainly very attentive,” Xifeng remarked to Hideki and Wei, who were waiting outside. “She seemed almost jealous when I brought Shiro flowers.”

  “Best not to come between a healer and her charge,” Wei said. “Where shall we go?”

  “I’d like to see the smithing district you mentioned.” She watched him for any sign of awareness, but he cheerfully took the lead, rambling on to Hideki about shields. She suspected the training fields would be near the swordsmiths, and lo and behold, as they passed through the district, men appeared carrying makeshift weapons like the ones she’d seen the day before. “Let’s go this way,” she called, eager to follow the recruits. “I want to see the public gardens.”

  Despite the threat of rain, merchants were out in full force, hawking wares beneath small umbrellas to protect their goods. Within moments, the training fields appeared in the midst of a few schools and city offices, taking up an entire section of the district.

  Xifeng glanced at Wei. He stopped midsentence, his eyes fixed on the swords, targets, and crossbows. “Is this where the Emperor’s army trains?” she asked innocently. “Wouldn’t they practice in secret on the palace grounds, to hide their tactics?”

  “It must be a basic training ground.” Despite Hideki’s disapproval of the Emperor’s army, he seemed as interested as Wei. “It appears they’re holding trials for new recruits today.”

  It was simple work to distinguish between the hopefuls, who stood gawking with their homemade weapons, and the true soldiers, who were all bare chested, shaven headed, and dressed in the same loose red-and-gold pants. Some of the soldiers emptied crates onto the field, revealing spears, swords, and granite boulders, as several men on horseback watched from the perimeter. These mounted warriors wore full armor that appeared wrought with pure gold.

  “Is that the captain?” Xifeng asked, eyeing the oldest among them.

  Wei shook his head in awe. “Captains don’t wear armor that expensive. That must be the General himself, inspecting his junior officers.”

  The soldiers on the field divided into four groups for demonstrations. One group ran around the e
dge of the field, arms and legs pumping in perfect time, while another set themselves up on the far end with the boulders, taking turns throwing as far and as fast as they could. A third group used heavy sacks as targets for their spears, and a fourth broke up into pairs for fencing.

  Xifeng peeked again at Wei, whose eyes shone as he watched the swordplay. No matter what he said, his dream of being a warrior was more alive than ever. His body tensed with energy, awakened by the music of swords dancing. She felt a tug beneath her heart at his joy. I’m doing this for you, my love, she thought, once again ignoring the creature’s low, sardonic laugh from deep within.

  “Join them,” she urged him.

  He gave a great shout of a laugh. “You’re not serious. Those men have trained for years. They would run me through like a wild boar.”

  “You’d be as good as any of them,” she said staunchly. Wei pressed his lips against her forehead, eyes still on the field.

  The running soldiers steadily approached them, skin dewy with sweat. They were of varying heights, many shorter and stockier than Wei, but each was a warrior in his own right. Muscles rippled in their shoulders as they moved, breathing easily despite their speed. They were a mass of force and strength, powerful and relentless, trained to overtake a battlefield in the name of the Emperor. They kept their eyes forward as they ran, intensely focused on the horizon.

  Someone giggled nearby, and Xifeng turned to see a flock of girls about Ning’s age, watching the warriors with undisguised lust.

  “Now there’s a good reason to enter the army,” Wei joked, and she scowled at him.

  “We didn’t have that back home. Or at least, I didn’t,” Hideki added with a grin.

  The officers in gold armor dismounted and paced in front of the prospective recruits, scrutinizing them. Every so often, they would point at one and instruct him to join a group. The youngest officer had an open, friendly face that reminded Xifeng of Ken. Unlike the others, his hair grew long and thick on his head, blending in with the neatly trimmed beard he wore. He stood not twenty feet from them, and Xifeng longed for him to turn and point at Wei.

  “He isn’t much older than we are,” she told Wei. “The Emperor must hold him in high esteem to put him in gold armor.”

  The older officers had pointed to at least a dozen recruits, but the young man hung back, his head tilted in consideration. Turn around, Xifeng thought, chewing on her nails. Spot after spot filled, and still he stood with his back to Wei. How many spaces were left?

  “Are you all right?” Hideki asked her, grinning. “You look as nervous as some of those would-be soldiers.”

  She dropped her hand, but kept her eyes on the young officer. Even the way he crossed his arms reminded her of Ken. He certainly looked kinder and more approachable than his stern elders. The other gold-armored men gathered together, talking in low voices. In a minute, they would retreat and tell those they hadn’t selected to go home. Guma’s words reverberated through her mind, distant chimes of her old life: It is for you to take your destiny in your hands.

  Now was her chance.

  “I humbly beg your pardon, sir,” she said loudly, approaching the youngest officer.

  “Xifeng! What are you doing?” Wei demanded, but she ignored him.

  The officer turned in surprise. Up close, she saw he couldn’t be older than twenty, and again she marveled that the Emperor would appoint a youth to such a high position.

  “Yes, what is it?” he asked as his companions watched suspiciously.

  Xifeng’s heart beat so fast, she thought she might faint, but still she barreled on. “I wondered, sir, if you might have room for one more recruit among your swordsmen.” Her blood pounded in her ears as she waited for his response, her head bowed with respect. His boots were of the most beautiful, thick brown material, soft and durable. She thought of the blisters Wei had to endure because of his ill-made shoes.

  “You’re not offering to be one of my men, are you?” There was a smile in the young officer’s voice, and kindness, too.

  Xifeng took heart and would have continued speaking, when another man approached. He was in his fifties with a face devoid of humor and spoke to the young officer with a stiff, resentful manner. “Sir, we don’t have much time.”

  “I’m aware of that, Second Commander,” the young man replied calmly, then addressed Xifeng again. “Unfortunately, miss, I’m sorry to say all of the positions have been filled.”

  “You can’t mean that, sir,” she said, panic rising within her. “My friend . . .”

  “There are many hopefuls whenever we recruit. We cannot choose all of them. We can’t possibly feed or train that many men.” His voice held genuine regret. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but we’ve selected everyone we want. Perhaps your friend can come back next year.”

  A year? Xifeng’s stomach dropped as she watched him walk away, his armor glinting despite the lack of sun. She had been thoroughly dismissed.

  The creature suddenly shifted within her, and then the words on her tongue slipped out before she could stop them. “Would you turn your back on greatness?”

  The young man stopped and slowly turned to face her as the other officers stared, shocked into silence by her rudeness. Xifeng pressed her lips together, beads of perspiration forming on her brow. She almost wished the creature would tell her what to say next, but the movement beneath her breastbone had stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” she stammered, her face burning, “but my friend’s talent is such that he deserves a chance, and I didn’t see you choosing anyone, as the other commanders did. You wear the same armor they do, and I think you ought to have a say in the matter, even if they are superior to you.” As soon as she said it, she realized her mistake: the Second Commander had referred to him as sir, indicating that he ranked below the younger man.

  But however she expected the officer to react, it was not by laughing. She kept her head down and felt him studying her as he chuckled. “You think that, do you? Your friend is lucky indeed to have you fighting his battles for him.”

  “He fights his own battles, sir,” she said quickly. “I am merely his messenger.”

  “Well, then, little messenger, where is he?”

  Xifeng turned to Wei, who looked mortified as he and Hideki came forward.

  The young man looked them both over. “Enjoying the demonstrations, are you?”

  The crease between Wei’s brows deepened. “I hope you take no offense at this woman’s forward manners. I did not ask her to speak for me.” Xifeng hid her annoyance, knowing he would see—sooner or later—that she had been brave enough to steer his life on the right course.

  “I’m not offended. I’m glad she spoke on your behalf.” The young man’s keen eyes moved to Hideki. “You’re a soldier. I can tell by your stance. Kamatsu, I suppose, on a mission to our court,” he added, without a trace of judgment, and Hideki gave a startled nod. The officer turned back to Wei. “You, on the other hand, are a son of the Great Forest. But if you keep such company, you must indeed be a swordsman as this woman proclaims.”

  Wei puffed up his chest, though he spoke modestly. “I’m a novice, sir. I was employed by a craftsman and often fenced with customers.” He hesitated. “Your men’s swords must be of fine quality. But I can hear from the sound that they aren’t as sharp as they could be. There’s a lower pitch when two blades meet.”

  The young officer listened with interest as Wei described the best types of animal hide to buff and hone the blade. “Well, as I told your little messenger, our ranks are full. But I admit I’m curious to know whether you fence as well as you craft.”

  “Better. He has won contests,” Xifeng blurted. It was a small lie, as Wei had only ever entered one unofficial competition. Truthfully, it had been more of a drunken display of bravado when young townsmen combined cheap wine with swords, but stil
l, Wei had emerged the victor.

  “Wei, why don’t you join us on the field and show us what you know?”

  Wei’s nostrils flared, his hunger palpable. “I have no formal training . . .”

  “What’s formal training without natural talent?” The man surveyed him once more. “The Emperor’s soldiers you see on the field fight under the Red Banner. It is their responsibility to train new recruits for the Green Banner.”

  Xifeng struggled to recall what Wei had told her about the banners, the divisions of the Emperor’s army. Warriors belonging to the upper hereditary banners enlisted based on family name and status; the Red Banner might be one of these prestigious groups. If so, each of the soldiers here belonged to families of the highest rank.

  “Sir,” the Second Commander interrupted, “it is your decision, of course, but do you think it wise when we have already selected all the swordsmen we need?” Xifeng darted a glance at him, noting how his mouth twisted with displeasure, and wondered again what rank the young man held. It didn’t seem possible for him to claim such high status over experienced soldiers.

  But the young officer answered him in a calm, decisive tone. “I do.” He led Wei onto the field without a second glance. The fencers halted their activity and faced him with respect, then one stepped forward and handed Wei a sword. Within moments, Wei became one of them—running, lunging, and parrying, though he did so with less finesse than they did.

  Xifeng couldn’t help smiling, knowing how much he longed for this. She felt Hideki’s eyes on her and waited for his disapproving comment. But it didn’t come.

  “That was bold of you,” he said. “If Wei impresses him enough, I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept him for the army.”

  She didn’t need Hideki’s confirmation; she knew in her bones the young officer would be impressed. How could he not? Wei would join the Emperor’s army, and then she would use his connections to gain entry to court herself. If that somehow failed, she might be able to leverage Shiro’s position as ambassador. But then again, he came from Kamatsu, a nation that had only just stopped warring with the Great Forest and had entered into a tentative peace.