Paper Mage

by Leah R. Cutter

  Xiao Yen stood again, held her lantern high, and examined the treasure pile. It was difficult to look at. The bright sunlight reflecting off the gold, silver, and jewels made her eyes water. On the left side of the pile she saw a protruding stick. If she squinted her eyes, she thought she saw a blue shadow.

  Xiao Yen sat and thought for a moment. The gnawing tore at her concentration. The teeth were getting closer. She imagined the sound of the rat dragon’s naked claws scrabbling against the hard rocks, coming to get her. That large rat, with its foul breath, desecrating her body, tearing it to pieces, so she would never have rest, but be tied to this plane forever.

  That rat—Xiao Yen stopped. She took a deep breath and pulled out a piece of paper from her bag. Then she started folding. The familiar actions helped her relax, letting her shoulders loosen and her breathing deepen and slow. She finished the piece reluctantly, pulling the long tail out from the body of the piece.

  She kept the piece in her hands and looked deep into creases that represented its eyes. She pushed as much intelligence and cunning into her creature as she could, stolen from those few moments of staring into the red orbs of the rat dragon. She imagined its long golden whiskers shortened, stiffened, whitened; the long nose twitching, sniffing out the magic hairpin; the claws scraping on the rock, first going into the crevice, then up the other side; and finally, bringing the hairpin back to Xiao Yen.

  When she opened her eyes, a brown rat stood there, resting on its rear paws, like a little man ready to do her bidding. She placed it on the ground gently. Without hesitation, it ran for the chasm and scrambled down the cliff. Though Xiao Yen listened hard, she couldn’t hear it above the monotonous gnawing. Udo’s cries were fainter as well. Xiao Yen hoped he was giving up and turning around, though she was afraid that if he got lost, she’d never be able to find him.

  After what seemed like forever, her little rat climbed out of the chasm and ran to the treasure pile. It scrambled up the side where the hairpin stuck out of the pile like a column on the side of a mountain. The little animal pushed against the hairpin until it broke free from the surrounding jewels and skittered down the pile. The rat ran after it and picked up the hairpin in its mouth. The long pins attached to the gold leaf top dragged on the ground, even though the rat lifted its head high. It couldn’t see as it walked, so it would take a few steps, put the hairpin down, then take a few more steps.

  Xiao Yen silently urged it to go faster.

  Finally, it reached the edge of the crevice. It put down the hairpin and walked to the lip of the ravine. It looked down, then looked at the hairpin. It paused for a moment, then turned back to the hairpin and shoved it with its nose.

  Xiao Yen called out, “Don’t!” It was too late. The rat shoved the hairpin over the edge, letting it tumble to the bottom of the ravine. Then it scrambled over the edge.

  How was she going to get the hairpin from the bottom of the crevice? Her little rat couldn’t carry it. Gnawing teeth continued at her back.

  Her rat scrambled up her side of the crevice, without the hairpin, as she knew it would. It shook its head at her, ran to the edge, then back to her. She knew the hairpin was at the bottom.

  “I don’t know how to get the pin,” she said. The sound of her voice echoed in the tunnel, startling her. The rat sat still. Its whiskers bounced with its rapid breathing, and its tail swished against the rock.

  Its broad, ropelike tail.

  Xiao Yen indicated with her hand that the rat should go back down the cliff. She took out her practice string and looked at it. She concentrated, trying to see her rat’s tail between her fingers. Gradually the image formed. It had short hairs on it, and dark rings at the thick end, stiff, barely bendable. Xiao Yen carefully placed a single knot in it, toward the end.

  Xiao Yen listened as her creation came back up the cliff. The rat popped over the edge, dragging the hairpin after it, attached to its tail with a knot. Xiao Yen felt a glad smile tugging at her mouth, probably the first smile she’d had all day. When Xiao Yen touched the rat’s tail, the knot undid itself. Without another sound, her rat scrambled down the cliff again.

  The head of the hairpin was a gold phoenix, with a graceful neck and trailing wings. Its legs started thin and curved, but straightened out to form the two prongs that went into a woman’s hair. Xiao Yen put the hairpin into her bag, then got out another candle. Her first had burned down to a stub. She replaced it, then used the stub to burn the remains of the paper rat. She closed her eyes, breathing in the silence, speeding the rat on its way to much more treasure.

  Her eyes popped open.

  Silence.

  When had the gnawing sound stopped?

  Xiao Yen stood up. She didn’t want to be trapped in this tunnel, with no way out but down the crevice. She hurried back toward the big cavern, surrounded by darkness.

  Two red points detached themselves from the darkness and came toward her.

  Xiao Yen backed up, but she had nowhere to go. Remnants of the net clung to the beast’s back. She had no cranes or tigers pre-folded to defend herself. She didn’t even know if paper magic would work. Xiao Yen backed up until she was pushed against the rock. She closed her eyes and held herself still, dreading that first cold touch of its claws.

  A whistling sound filled the air, followed by a sharp crack. Startled, Xiao Yen opened her eyes.

  Udo had attacked the rat dragon.

  The beast turned its back to her and faced the new threat.

  Udo roared at the dragon. He held a curved saber in his right hand, and had a round shield buckled onto his left arm. They looked foreign. Maybe he’d taken them off one of the defeated men down here. Xiao Yen moved to one side, trying to get away from the fight. Udo roared again and pushed the rat dragon back. The armored plates around the neck and head of the rat dragon protected it from Udo’s blows. Udo changed styles and, instead of swinging the saber, stabbed with it, trying to dig at the rat dragon’s eyes, but he wasn’t fast enough. The rat dragon moved its snout so quickly that Xiao Yen could barely follow it, snapping at Udo’s sword with its long teeth.

  Now the rat dragon pushed forward, trying to get under Udo’s guard, to nip at his feet. Udo backed up, one slow step at a time. Then he pushed forward again. It was like a dance. Back and forth Udo and the rat dragon went, Udo yelling and hacking, the rat dragon growling deep in its throat.

  A new sound came. Udo’s panting. Xiao Yen watched carefully. Udo no longer swung the saber as high as he had. When he connected with the rat dragon, the sound was duller, the blows not as strong.

  Udo yelled at the beast. Xiao Yen didn’t understand the words, but she heard the frustration in his voice. He attacked again, pushing the rat dragon against some boulders. The rat dragon curled its tail around a column when Udo pushed it back.

  Xiao Yen had an idea. If Udo could hold it there for just a moment . . .

  She pulled her practice string out of her sleeve and untied the knot already in it. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers along the rope, feeling the smoothness of it, the hardness at the core of it, linking the string to the rat dragon’s tail in her mind. Then she tied a slip knot in the string, so that if one end were pulled, the knot would tighten.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw the magic had worked. The rat dragon’s tail was tied around the column.

  “Back up!” she called to Udo.

  He didn’t seem to hear her, but after a moment, he took a step backward. Then another step. The rat dragon tried to follow, but couldn’t. It turned its back on Udo to see what held it.

  Xiao Yen called to Udo, “Run!”

  Udo hesitated, his saber held high. He smashed it down across the spine of the rat dragon, then he ran. The rat dragon let out a terrible howl, angry and high pitched. The sound raked across Xiao Yen’s back teeth.

  “Quick,” she said as Udo joined her. She ran toward the tunnel from which she had come.

  “The treasure?” he called.

  Xiao Yen stopped and t
urned around. “Impossible,” she said.

  Udo swayed on his feet. The gnawing had started again, but this time it was a deeper, more threatening sound, the sound of rocks being crushed between long rat teeth. Xiao Yen wanted to run, but she couldn’t leave Udo behind. She tried to show him the situation with her hands. “Gold,” she said, miming a large mound. “Deep hole,” she indicated, next to it. “No bridge.”

  Udo nodded. He looked down at his saber and ground his teeth together. His jaw stuck out, as if a magician had cast a spell and turned it to granite. The muscles in his neck strained.

  Xiao Yen walked back toward him, took his arm and said, “Run. Now.”

  Udo dropped his head, defeated. He allowed Xiao Yen to lead him back to the tunnel. The horrible gnawing from the rat dragon was soon muffled. Xiao Yen had to drop Udo’s arm. The tunnel wasn’t wide enough for them to walk side by side. She hurried as much as she could, pausing a few times as she reconstructed the folding instructions she’d memorized as she’d come in. She listened for the scrabbling of naked claws from behind, but all she heard was Udo stumbling over rocks as he followed. She held her lantern low so he could watch where she placed her feet. This time her hand never trembled.

  Xiao Yen smelled the fresh air before she felt it blowing on her face. She heard a pattering sound as they stepped out of the tunnel into the cave entrance. She paused, then held up a hand to stop Udo.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Shh,” she replied. The sound drew nearer. Xiao Yen pushed Udo against the wall, then flattened herself against the cold hard rock. “No move,” she said. “No talk.” Udo stayed silent. He must have seen the fear in her eyes.

  A rush of wind came from deep in the mountain, pushed out by the fast-moving rat dragon. It appeared as a brown blur as it passed Xiao Yen and Udo. It didn’t pause when it reached the top of the tunnel, but hurled itself out the cave entrance, into the air. Its batlike wings creaked as they spread out.

  Xiao Yen’s heart leapt as the dragon disappeared. Had the dragon missed them? She walked to the entrance of the cave and looked out. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed. Her heart sank to her toes. They had been so close.

  Udo asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “The plain,” Xiao Yen responded. “It”—she moved her hands in frustration, one over the other, trying to show the shape of the plain, not remembering the foreign words—“Dragon can see us. No place to hide.”

  Udo stepped up to the mouth of the cave and looked out. He grunted and nodded. The flat plain offered no shelter from an airborne dragon.

  “Look,” he said. “What’s wrong with the dragon?”

  The rat dragon flew in an erratic path across the sky. It flapped its wings hard to gain height, then rocked back and forth, as if heavy winds buffeted it.

  Xiao Yen pointed and said, “The tail!”

  The rat dragon still had a large chunk of rock knotted into its tail.

  Like a ship with a broken rudder, it couldn’t steer.

  The rat dragon acted as if it heard Xiao Yen, and aimed straight for the cave entrance where they stood. It issued a high-pitched scream that ran sharp nails down Xiao Yen’s back. She stepped away from the edge, tugging at Udo’s sleeve.

  Udo didn’t budge. He raised his saber and issued his own battle cry, harsh and guttural.

  The rat dragon swung from side to side as it dived, but the swinging seemed to be controlled now. The rock-laden tail hung below it like a pendulum. The beast folded its wings closer to its body to give speed to its dive. The red glowing eyes fastened on Udo.

  Xiao Yen put a hand up toward Udo, then dropped it again. She couldn’t stop him or save him. She took a deep breath and waited to see Udo’s fate.

  Just before the rat dragon got to the cave entrance, it raised its head and extended its wings, braking, reaching for Udo with its hind claws. It screamed again as it glided forward.

  And down.

  The rat dragon wasn’t used to the extra weight from the rock its tail still held. While momentum carried the beast forward, the rock dragged it down. It was too late for the beast to compensate with its wings.

  Its snout smashed next to Udo’s feet. The rest of the rat dragon’s body hit the hill hard. The ground shook, as if a small earthquake had just occurred. Xiao Yen heard several loud snaps as she tried to stay on her feet: the rat dragon’s ribs breaking. Then the beast tumbled backward. Its tail came up, and the rock still tied there crashed into the rat dragon’s face, snapping its snout in two. The rat dragon continued to somersault down the hill, and landed with a loud crash next to the pile of garbage. It didn’t move again.

  Udo shouted with joy, raising his saber in victory.

  Xiao Yen wanted to laugh. He hadn’t done anything to kill the dragon, but he was going to take all the credit for it. He was such a foreigner.

  * * *

  “And Liang Ko Fu’s family? They have a large house in Bao Fang, of course, but an even larger one in the capital. Its gardens are said to rival the Emperor’s!” Gan Ou bragged.

  “The harvest here wasn’t too large, but down south, it was tremendous. I’ve doubled our contract for millet, and our profits too,” said Wang Tie-Tie.

  “Do you have enough blankets at night?” asked Fu Be Be.

  Xiao Yen almost laughed. Though the dinner Wang Tie-Tie had ordered was supposedly in her honor, no one had let her say a word until now.

  “I have plenty of blankets. I’m learning many things at school too. Master Wei is a good teacher.”

  A pained look crossed Fu Be Be’s face. “Have some more huo qiezi,” she said, passing a plate of fried eggplant with fire sauce.

  Xiao Yen sighed, depressed. Her family expected her to do well, to pass all her exams and excel at being a paper mage. Conversely, they acted ashamed of her attending school, and would never let her talk about it.

  “What happened to your hand?” Fu Be Be asked.

  Xiao Yen followed her mother’s stare to her left hand, holding the plate. She knew she should minimize the importance of what the cloth covered, but she couldn’t.

  “Today, at the contest, my crane . . . well . . . we . . . uhm, interacted, and he pecked me.” Xiao Yen didn’t know how to explain the importance of the event.

  Fu Be Be pulled back in horror. “Your creature attacked you?”

  “No, Mother. It didn’t attack me. It scarred me, marked me as a paper mage. Master Wei even called me a paper mage.”

  “No child of mine is going to have scars on her hands,” Fu Be Be said, unwrapping the cloth bound around Xiao Yen’s left hand. She gasped when she saw the ash covering the wound. She got up, pulling Xiao Yen with her.

  “Mama, Master Wei said I should keep it covered for a week,” Xiao Yen said.

  Fu Be Be responded, “Proper ladies don’t have scars on the backs of their hands. That’s the sort of thing a superstitious peasant woman would do. You’re going to have nice, beautiful hands.”

  Xiao Yen didn’t argue. She didn’t want to start one of their usual screaming fights. She wanted the time she spent with her family to be happy. She didn’t see them very often. She let her mother clean her hand, put healing herbs on it, then bandage it again.

  Xiao Yen also vowed to herself that she would reopen the cut and put more ash in it later that night, Her mother wouldn’t know, and Xiao Yen could still have the scar marking her as a true paper mage.

  “Did I show you the writing set my fiancé sent me?” Gan Ou asked Xiao Yen. Before Xiao Yen could reply, Gan Ou leapt off their shared bed and started rummaging under it. The three candles sitting on the window ledge behind her threw her shadow across the bed and up the wall.

  Xiao Yen stretched, then lay down, across the bed, her head near the edge where Gan Ou sat. She grinned at her sister, though Gan Ou couldn’t see it. It was fun to see her sister so excited about something. Ladies never indulged in simple enthusiasm, so Gan Ou always pretended to not care as well.

  Gan Ou dragged a lar
ge, off-white bundle of cloth from under the bed. The knotted cloth covered an eight-sided box, lacquered in an elegant, emerald-and-cherry colored design. The sides interwove at the corners, showing excellent craftsmanship. Gan Ou stood up and placed the box on the bed, next to Xiao Yen. Then she fetched one of the candles from the window.

  Gan Ou handed Xiao Yen the candle so the older sister could lift the lid off the box with both hands. Nestled in luxurious crimson silk lay three brushes, lacquered like the box, with fine straight bristles. Next to the brushes lay a slab of ink so black it was like a solid piece of night. The ink stone, used for grinding and holding the ink, was just as black. A slim knife with a pearl handle, used for trimming the brushes, glittered in the light.

  “Surely that ink stick is so fine that twelve tiny dragons will want to live in it, like in Wen Zhang’s, the god of literature!” Xiao Yen proclaimed.

  Gan Ou said, “I hope so.” She sighed, and gazed for a moment at the contents of her writing set. Then she sighed again, put the snug-fitting cover on the box, and placed it back in the center of the cloth.

  “Why do you keep such a fine gift under the bed? Why isn’t it displayed on your table, or in the Hall of Receiving?” Xiao Yen asked.

  “It’s part of Wang Tie-Tie’s strategy,” Gan Ou said as she tied the final knot. “She won’t let me display it until Ko Fu sends a more expensive bridal gift.”

  Xiao Yen had never heard such a tone in Gan Ou’s voice; at least, not when talking about family. Normally, she reserved that disparaging tone for merchants. Xiao Yen peered at Gan Ou after she replaced the box, but the flickering candlelight made it difficult to see any details in her sister’s face.

  “Fu Be Be says Wang Tie-Tie is a miserly harpy, like old man Ti, that elder who wouldn’t give any of his gold to help the goddess Nü-gua.”

  Xiao Yen was shocked. Fu Be Be and Wang Tie-Tie argued, often, but always in private. Neither Xiao Yen or Gan Ou were ever included. Puzzling over the content of their battles had been a source of more than one late-night conversation between the sisters.