The Dragon and the Stars
Page 7
“I’ll take it up there,” Paul said as he put the postcard into the sack.
A ground crew technician came and said, “Mr. Chu, the final preparations are starting. Could you please ask your visitors to leave?”
“I better get back to the methane plant. Bon voyage,” Ray said. “I’ll see you when you come back.”
Kate gave Paul a deep, lingering kiss. “I’ll give you your Canadian astronaut wings when you land,” she promised.
The visitors rode the elevator down the supply tower but left the sack of mail behind. The technician stared at it and asked, “What’s that doing here? It’s not on the payload list.”
“It is now,” said Paul. He pushed the sack to the Polar Bear’s hatch.
“This isn’t authorized,” the technician complained.
“I’m the mission commander. I authorize it,” Paul said. He pointed at the one of the lions. “Take that lion out and put the sack in the seat.”
Gigantic flames, bright blue with burning methane, erupted from the Long March rocket as it blasted off into the night. The aurora borealis danced in the sky. The rocket rose steadily against the backdrop of green, red, and white light.
The rocket flew toward the northeast. After speeding through the aurora borealis, the Long March’s first stage separated, falling into Hudson Bay. Later, the second stage fell away. The Polar Bear went into orbit.
“Mission Control to Polar Bear,” said a flight controller from Churchill Spaceport. “Telemetry shows all systems are nominal. Can you confirm?”
“Mission Control, I confirm that,” Paul replied.
He saw the aurora borealis along the curve of the Earth. Although he was not a religious man, he wondered if Danny Eastman’s spirit was smiling on him, pushing away the hexes of the feng shui and guiding the spaceship.
“Here’s to you, Danny Eastman,” Paul said.
After Paul completed one full orbit, the flight controller said, “Mission Control to Polar Bear. Stand by for a transmission from the observation deck.”
Kate’s image appeared on the video monitor. “Hey, Paul, congratulations on your first orbit! We’re all cheering for you down here. Can you hear them?”
Cheers and applause broke out from the people behind her. Paul heard Inuit throat singing and the banging of Cree drums.
“I can hear them loud and clear,” Paul said. “It sounds like the whole town is there.”
“Most of them,” said Kate. “What do you see up there?”
“I’m passing over North America now,” Paul reported as he looked out the window. “I can see Hudson Bay. Can you see me waving at you?”
The Polar Bear flew over Canada. Paul saw almost the whole country, from the Yukon-Alaska border in the west to Cape Spear in the east, from Cape Columbia in the north to Middle Island in the south. From space, the country appeared as large masses of green, brown, blue, and white: the forests, the tundra, the waters, and the ice.
“You should see the view from here,” Paul said. “Everything looks so calm and beautiful.”
Below on the ground, the various tribes of Canada squabbled with each other, as they always have. But from space, Paul saw one peaceful dominion.
After two orbits of the Earth, Paul ignited the rockets that slowed Polar Bear into reentry. The space plane glided back to a runway at Churchill Spaceport. Within moments of climbing out of the spaceship, he was surrounded by a horde of ground crew and reporters.
Paul wrote “No.1” on one of the covers and gave it to Ray Cassidy. “Ray, you get the first cover.”
“Thank you!” Ray said as he shook Paul’s hand.
Paul also gave the postcard back to Ray.
“I’ll give this to Barbara,” Ray vowed.
Kate kissed Paul and pinned an astronaut wings badge to his flight suit. “You did it, you created positive qi,” she cooed.
The celebration continued inside the spaceport’s main building, where the Chinese ground crew improvised a dragon dance with a dragon from Winnipeg’s Chinatown. As the beast swirled through the room, Jonathan toasted Paul with a glass of punch.
“By the way,” Jonathan said, “I have to ask you about the payload.”
The spaceport manager pointed at a solitary fiberglass lion sitting on a table. “Lions always come in pairs. You never see just one lion in front of a gate. How can I send just one lion back to Ming? How can Ming give just one lion to the Minister of National Heritage?”
Paul pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “Send these covers back to Hong Kong. We’ve made one for Ming, the Minister, and each member of the Politburo.”
Jonathan looked at the picture of Sedna and the stamp of Louis Riel. He sighed and said, “How does this envelope symbolize Chinese science and culture?”
“Look at its back.”
Jonathan turned over the cover and read the words printed in English, French, Chinese, Cree, and Inuktitut:
This cover is made of one of the four great inventions of China: paper, which caused great cultural change all over the world.
The next day, the townspeople went to pick up free covers flown aboard Canada’s first commercial orbital spaceflight. For the first time in years, the town hall resonated with the sounds of celebration.
Cree musicians sang a round dance song and banged on drums. Barbara Eastman, Danny’s widow, explained to Paul, “They’re singing about birds flying. August is the Month of the Flying Moon. It’s when young birds fly from the nest.”
She looked at the postcard that Ray had written. “Danny would have been happy to see you fly.”
“I think he did,” Paul said.
Mayor Alaralok held up her cover. “It’s so nice of you to give a souvenir to everyone in town.”
“We appreciate how much the people of Churchill have done for the spaceport,” Paul said as Kate entwined her arm with his.
“That’s a beautiful drawing of Sedna,” Alaralok remarked.
“Thank you,” said Kate. “Drawing it was a pleasure.”
“The relationship between natives and non-natives has not always been happy. Outsiders have stolen our land, our culture, and even our children,” said Alaralok.
“But you are different. You have given us the stars.”
She pointed at the picture of Sedna. “But best of all, you gave us our dignity back.”
A month later, Paul and Kate left for Montreal, where Paul became a pilot for a small airline, and Kate resumed working at an art museum. Ray Cassidy retired again after training people to replace himself. Jonathan returned to Hong Kong after handing the spaceport to a manager from Alouette Aviation. Most of the Chinese crew went back to China, but a few stayed and became Canadian citizens.
When Paul and Kate visited Churchill five years later, the town had two thousand people and numerous businesses. Satellites and space tourists flew into orbit from the spaceport. And the methane plant provided fuel not only for the spaceport but also for several communities in northern Manitoba.
But some things hadn’t changed. The aurora borealis still appeared in late August evenings. Launch Pad 1 still had a supply tower with X’s and a pyramid and bad feng shui. And Sedna, the goddess of marine animals, still adorned the lobby of the post office.
However, now the image of Sedna was a framed spaceflight cover carried on Polar Bear. On its frame was a small brass plaque engraved with the Chinese character qi.
Lips of Ash
Emery Huang
IT was a mud and stick hut tucked deep in the forest. A week of asking around for a true blood shaman had led Zhou Liang there. Inside, the hut was dark but for a fire crackling in the middle and a cone of light coming from the smoke hole in the ceiling.
“They always come to me when they need to traffic in the evil spirits,” the shaman said. She was a wrinkled old crone who looked more like an overripe kiwi than anything a man could love. “Can’t come to me for prayers or blessings, no. They give the Buddhist and Taoist monks the easy coin. They only come
to me when they want to play in the dark bits.”
Zhou Liang smiled sheepishly. “It’s not like that.”
“No?” Her eyes popped open, yellowed and froglike. “And what great things are you planning to do with a fox demon? Just a randy young man looking for a frolic with the spirits?”
She looked Zhou Liang over for a minute and shook her head. “No, you’re too old for that. A fox girl would wear you out within the week. Best you go spend your time at the brothel.” She made a shooing motion with her hands.
Zhou Liang stifled a laugh. “Oh, I agree, old mother. I’ve already said goodbye to those days. It’s not for me, though.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Looking to sabotage someone then. Ruin a marriage? Destroy a family? You know, shamans are healers. We restore the balance.”
Zhou Liang sighed in exasperation. “Let me explain the situation.” Then he told her his story.
He was a cosmetics artist in the employ of Mistress Fei. Each morning, he was called in to apply her makeup, touch it up throughout the day, and remove it at night. Usually, this was a woman’s job, but Zhou Liang was an exceptional talent and Mistress Fei was a stubborn woman.
A week ago, he came in for his morning duties and found Mistress Fei looking despondent. She sat on a bed of pillows at the back of the room, wrapped in a stiff damask robe with her hands resting in her lap. Next to her stood a lacquer table with tea and cakes. She did not offer him any.
He made the proper obeisance, then sat on a stool by her side. Her hair was already done up in the elaborate arrangement in vogue at the time. Her skin was smooth, pale, and lightly scented with litchi fruit. His cosmetic services had always been more an artistic accentuation of her features than a masking of flaws.
He got out his skin creams, his brushes, his mineral powders and rouges. She may have been in a bad mood, but he would do his work and be gone. Let her vent her anger on someone else.
“Zhou Liang, we have a problem.” Mistress Fei’s expression was clouded with doubt and her lips pursed with worry.
He paused in his work, the thin powder brush hanging loose from his hand. “What is the matter, Mistress Fei?” He hoped he had not done something to incur her displeasure. She was his primary patron and could leave him and his family without work and out begging in the streets.
“The duke. He tires of me.”
Zhou Liang’s heart almost stopped. It would be a serious turn in fortunes if Mistress Fei lost her master’s favor. It was also surprising. She was still young, twenty-one to be exact, and was in the full flower of her beauty. She had high, full breasts, a plump round face, and fine soft skin.
“Impossible. You’re the most beautiful of his mistresses.” Zhou Liang resumed applying makeup to her face. There was comfort in his work and he felt as if his nerves were being smoothed along with the powder on her cheeks.
“His chamberlain brought a new girl from the east. They say she’s from a merchant family, that she’s bright and young but smart as a civil exam graduate. She reads poetry and dances and plays chess like a man.” Mistress Fei’s face grew angrier as she listed what the girl could do.
Zhou Liang paused, a lump forming in his throat. “But you’ve studied those subjects for years.”
“I’m hopeless when it comes to scholarly pursuits. You know that.”
His response was silence.
“I know my limitations, but I cannot lose the duke’s favor. You must help me.” She looked into Zhou Liang’s face with a young vulnerability that showed how scared she was. “Find a way to win him back, and I will never forget your service to me.”
“So, you’re going to steal a fox demon’s wit?” the shaman asked. Her eyes lit with amusement. “A clever idea. Your own?”
Zhou Liang nodded. “Is there any way to give my mistress the demon’s wit without being possessed?”
The shaman rolled a small copper hoop around in her hand, a mishmash of rooster feathers and beads dangling from it. “Perhaps. You’d need a medium to hold the fox demon’s essence. Make it something you can put on the girl like a fur bracelet or a necklace of the fox’s teeth. But be careful she doesn’t wear it too long. She can lose herself that way.”
“So the fox demon has to be slain?” Zhou Liang asked. “I can’t make a bargain with it?”
“No bargain. Are you mad? You want to bargain with a fox demon?” The shaman gave him a look of great irritation. “Maybe it’s you that needs the fox’s wit.”
“Sorry, old mother.”
“Find one when the moon is full. Hopefully, you can find a weaker one, young, unable to take the shape of a human yet. The demon will have enough intelligence for your needs but won’t have the force of will to push out the girl’s soul.”
“Thank you.” Zhou Liang reached into his pouch to find the two silver ingots he’d brought as payment. It was an exorbitant sum, but the shaman wouldn’t even speak of demons if he hadn’t promised that much.
“Not so fast. Remember, you never know what traits she’ll gain. Maybe it’ll be the fox’s wit, maybe its lust, or maybe its wicked spirit. None of them are the same. Stay vigilant. The fox demon’s powers seduce both men and women.”
He thanked her again and handed over the two ingots, their heavy weight rolling off his palm and into her waiting hands.
“Take this with you.” She gave him three leather pouches. “The first pouch holds herbs a fox demon can’t resist. It’s like catnip. Chop the herbs up, mix them with fresh soybeans, and make a tofu out of it. The second pouch has five flavor fruit. Boil them in a small amount of water and drizzle it over the tofu. They will put the fox to sleep. The last pouch holds a rock of cinnabar. When the fox is asleep, shove it as far down its throat as you can. It will disrupt the life essences.”
“The cinnabar will kill the fox?” Zhou Liang asked.
“Yes.”
Zhou Liang gave her a grim look and nodded.
Half a month later, the moon was a large, round white orb. It was time. Zhou Liang had confided in his wife all that had occurred, but tonight, he shared with her his doubts.
She gave him an incredulous look. “What do you mean ‘you’re not sure if you’ll go through with it?”’
“Think of all the things that could go wrong,” he said.
“Think of what could go wrong if you don’t. You want to lose your job? Our daughter needs her dowry soon. We need a way to feed ourselves. Give the woman what she wants and be done with it.”
Zhou Liang sat in his bedchamber, worried and confused. On one hand, he knew how to satisfy his mistress’s demands. On the other, he fretted over what effects the amulet could have on her.
“Enough. It’s time to be a man. Your family needs you. Give me the pouches. I’ll go make the tofu.”
He lay on the hard wooden bed, listening to her tinker in the kitchen. Earlier in the day she had soaked, crushed, and boiled the soybeans. Now he could hear her splashing handfuls of seawater onto the curds.
A while later, she came into the bedroom with a bamboo bucket. The bottom half of the bucket was shiny with silken tofu. Speckles of green dotted the surface, which Zhou Liang took to be the herbs from the first pouch.
“I already poured the five flavor fruit over it. Now go and bring fortune back to our doorstep.” She put the bucket on the floor and reached over to give him a rough kiss on the lips.
The forest was bright with the moon full in the sky, and Zhou Liang had a good idea of where he was going. Forest spirits were likeliest to emerge where water met wood, and along the west side there was a large pond amidst a grove of trees.
When he got to the pond, he saw a large flat stone. He laid his bucket on it and pulled the top half away, leaving the tofu on a circular wooden tray. Then he went to find a comfortable hiding spot between some tall ferns.
A few hours later, a fox approached. In the meantime, Zhou Liang had armed himself with a walking stick to ward off other wild animals that tried to eat the tofu.
Then a thought came upon him in a burst of alarm. What if the fox wasn’t a fox demon, but merely a regular fox? He hadn’t thought to ask the shaman how to identify one. His mind raced as he tried to figure out how to make sure the fox was in fact a demon.
But as he was tensing his muscles for action, a small blue fire flickered along the fox’s muzzle. As the fox ate, the fire grew thicker, almost like a wild fog bubbling around its jaws. It slowly licked at the tofu, each lap of the tongue sending blobs of fire spraying along the stone’s surface.
It ate this way for several minutes, consuming about a third of the tofu. Then it sat on its haunches, wrapped its tail around its legs, and promptly fell asleep.
Zhou Liang couldn’t believe how easily the plan had worked. He waited a full ten minutes before pushing his way out of the ferns and tiptoeing over to the fox’s comatose body. It looked small and vulnerable, barely the size of a small dog with limbs delicate and furry.
He dumped the rest of the tofu onto the ground and kicked dirt over it so no other animals would find it. Then he scooped the fox up in his arms. Its small body was so light, it was like holding a pouch of feathers. Even the creature’s bones felt loose beneath its silky fur.
Zhou Liang had never seen a fox up close, but now he understood why beautiful women were called foxes. There was something alluring about the vivid redness of its fur, the sensual grace of its tail, and the daintiness of its whiskers.
He rushed home beneath the moonlight, half dreading the butcher’s work that lay ahead and half in wonderment that he had actually caught a demon with such ease.
He stood in the kitchen with his wife. The fox’s body lay between their feet. Its ribs rose and fell in a gentle motion.