Paper Mage

by Leah R. Cutter

  An angry voice interrupted her, and a hand shook her shoulder. Xiao Yen turned, startled.

  A fat priest in ochre robes with wide sleeves, and a swath of white silk cloth tied around his paunch, stood behind her, his eyes full of menace. The top of his head held a few wisps of silver hair. Behind thick, gummy lips stood a bright row of perfectly polished teeth, like a carnivore’s. He spoke in Tuo Nu’s dialect, a language Xiao Yen didn’t understand.

  “Excuse me,” she replied. “I was praying.”

  The priest grunted. “What were you praying for?” he asked. He spoke with such a heavy accent that it took Xiao Yen a moment to grasp that he’d spoken in her language.

  The first thought that came into her head popped out of her mouth. “Luck,” she said.

  “Luck!” the priest exclaimed. “You’re a long way from your home. Did you come crawling here on your luck?” he asked, sticking his hands inside his sleeves over his round belly.

  “No, I didn’t,” Xiao Yen replied. “But my magic—” she started.

  “I can see you have magic. But your magic doesn’t have a solid home. Do you wish to keep it?” the priest asked.

  Xiao Yen sighed. She didn’t know.

  “What do you want, child?” the priest asked, in tones that reminded her of Master Wei.

  Again, her words blurted out without thought. “My quiet.”

  “Everything comes with a price,” the priest intoned. Now he sounded like Fu Be Be.

  Did she want to pay that price? To live like a foreigner in her own land? Did she have any choice? The wind in her ears blew louder, and she shivered. That cold stream running through her was part of her core. Its depths reflected her being. The green mossy banks gave a spring to her step, kept her young. Without access to her quiet place, she’d die, like a flower without rain.

  “Then go find it,” the priest said, smiling at her like Udo did, showing all his perfect teeth.

  Another shiver ran down her back. She got to her feet and bowed deeply to the priest.

  “And don’t come cluttering my temple asking for frivolities again!” he called out as she crossed the threshold into the brilliant sunlit morning.

  Halfway across the clearing, Xiao Yen looked back. The temple still seemed wrapped in its own blanket of shadow. Afraid that it’d disappear before her eyes, she scampered down the side of the hill.

  On her way back to town, Xiao Yen stopped at the split in the road. The sea had a lighter sheen to it than earlier. The wind blew straight into her face, lifting the hair around her temples.

  Had that really been a priest at the temple? Or maybe, it had been the sea dragon. His teeth had been perfect . . . Xiao Yen giggled out loud at the thought.

  Xiao Yen closed her eyes. She tried to imagine what type of dragon the old priest would manifest as. His stoutness transformed into length. His ocher robes dulled and darkened, and became the back of the dragon, while his white silk cloth belt elongated and brightened into a pearl-white belly. Wings like flames attached to his front legs and a sharply pointed ridge of yellow spikes ran down his back. Swirling patterns of gray and black ran along his snout, curls of smoke rose around his ears, and row upon row of sharp white teeth filled his mouth. His eyes were the color of the autumn moon and glowed with their own light. Golden whiskers flowed from his chin, draping across his body and over his shoulders.

  Xiao Yen reached out one hand to greet the dragon and welcome it, then folded her hand back toward herself while she reached out her other arm. From that, she flowed into the exercises Master Wei had taught her, folding and unfolding her body like paper.

  Without thinking about it, she sought her center. Abruptly, she was there. The river ran faster than she’d ever seen it. The wind still blew through the trees, bending the grass down, sending ripples across the water. It didn’t blow all the water away this time, or push her back.

  Xiao Yen let the vision fill her sight. She understood now.

  Everything had its price.

  Had the priest said that? Or Master Wei? It didn’t matter. She was willing to pay it.

  The quiet splashed over her, like a fine rain. She let it soak through her clothes, into her skin, down into her very bones, along with her acceptance.

  Her peace came with a high price, which included her willingness to be both alone and lonely, as well as take responsibility for what she did. She had to step beyond duty, into choice.

  In her mind’s eye, Xiao Yen walked forward, thrust both hands into the cold stream, and drank.

  Xiao Yen came back to herself, standing, head bowed, still at the crossroads. She gurgled inside, the sort of noises her nephew, Little Bear, made when he was happy. The sound of the wind in her head had faded a little. Maybe sometimes it would gust and scatter her thoughts, but she was connected to her calm again. It was her choice.

  Xiao Yen turned, then stopped. The old priest wouldn’t approve of her going back up the hill to the dragon temple. So she gave thanks where she was, starting in a small ball, then unfolding her limbs, one by one. She followed the steps Master Wei had taught her, enjoying the ritual precision. She let the wind and the stream inside her add touches by bending more in this pose, flowing more in the next.

  Xiao Yen saw a dragon again, rising from the sea. It looked different this time. She didn’t understand how she could conjure two such different-looking dragons in her mind’s eye. This dragon’s body was the color of the sea, but its belly, instead of being pearly white, had a gray sheen to it, like polished metal. The spikes along its back were a dull orange, like an iron bell that had been left in the rain. Its wings were larger, and ran along its body like miniature hands. The snout had red streaks running on its sides. Its whiskers hung almost to its shoulders, looking more like gold wires than flowing gold fur. Its eyes were the color of the ocean just before a storm. Yet Xiao Yen still believed it was just a creature of her imagination.

  Xiao Yen greeted the dragon and danced for it, recalling the dances for Jing Long she’d been taught as a child. She welcomed the dragon, told it that she was glad that it was rising, that the rains would come. She heard shouts from above her, telling her to stop. She ignored them. She knew who she was. She’d made her choice. She was determined not to care if people whispered and pointed at her, or even if they shouted.

  She danced as the dragon took to the air, a mini-rainstorm of water dripping off its body as it left the sea. She waved farewell to it, and continued to dance for herself.

  An angry fisherman ran up to her and shook his pole in her face, yelling at her. He held himself so stiffly the cords in his neck stood out like sticks of bamboo. When he realized Xiao Yen didn’t understand his language, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down the path back toward the town. She went with him reluctantly; he smelled of fish, and of being at sea for many days.

  She didn’t hear the screams until they crested the next bluff.

  The second dragon hadn’t been in her mind’s eye. It had risen from the sea, and now attacked the town. Its gray body shimmered in the sunlight as it blew great gouts of fire. People ran screaming from its path. It made a large lazy loop over the water and came back toward the town, flying lower so it could smash a building with its tail.

  Xiao Yen turned to the fisherman in horror. “But I didn’t . . . It didn’t come because of me. . . .”

  The man twisted her arm up behind her back, then marched her into town.

  * * *

  Xiao Yen looked in dismay at the piece she’d just folded. The center line curved, making the horse look like an old nag with a bent back and low hanging belly. At least she’d failed alone, in the quiet of her room. Xiao Yen wanted to destroy the piece. Instead, she forced herself to study it, to see which folds had gone wrong. Just refolding wouldn’t help her. She needed to see her mistakes and learn from them, to see how one wrong fold could warp the whole.

  The youngest class of students played a loud game with hoops and sticks in the courtyard. She watched them from her w
indow, wishing she could join them. Even if she went outside to watch, they’d notice an older student, and their enthusiasm would dim. She was stuck by herself.

  She tried to study her horse. She held it in front of her and looked at it from every angle. Her mind kept skipping away. She found herself thinking about the Weavers’ Guild caravan Long Yen would be protecting. Or about Fat Fang, and how pompous he could be. Or about Wang Tie-Tie, and the contract she was negotiating. With foreigners.

  A chill ran down Xiao Yen’s back, like ghost fingers walking down her spine. She looked around her room. She’d leave it in less than a week’s time. There was very little that marked it as hers. A few scrolls in the corner. Two of her better pieces, a crane and a grasshopper, sat on the shelf near her bed. Her three jackets hung in the cupboard. Candles, held upright by their own wax, stood on every flat surface; the shelf, the table, the top of the cupboard. Master Wei called her lazy because sometimes she needed three calls in the morning before she’d get up. Xiao Yen knew the truth. She worked best at night, in candlelight, letting shadows suggest meat and muscle before her creatures grew to full size.

  Xiao Yen turned back to her horse. With a sigh, she folded another. Again her mind wandered, and the result showed it. Instead of standing on four solid feet, it was lopsided, the right foreleg longer than the back. Xiao Yen looked at the beast, turned it around in her hands. What was the use? If Wang Tie-Tie couldn’t get her a contract, Fu Be Be would force her to get married. She doubted her husband would let her practice. If her mother could find anyone who would want her, with her large shoulders, strong arms, and strange upbringing.

  She pulled over the foreign language book Wang Tie-Tie had given her. Only a few of the folded pages had useful vocabulary. The rest were filled with colorful stories about the strange things foreigners did, like sleeping with their animals, rubbing themselves with bear fat before a battle, speaking out of their stomachs instead of their mouths. Xiao Yen didn’t want to travel to foreign lands, but she had to do her duty.

  Xiao Yen pushed the book away and picked up another sheet of paper. This time, she’d do it right. She concentrated hard, talking herself through every fold, holding her arms up in front of her face. However, she tried too hard, and ended up tearing the left back leg as she refolded a crease.

  With the sound of the rip still ringing in her ears, Xiao Yen looked at the horse in horror. Was it an omen? Long Yen was going to protect horses as part of his duties. Would she have responsibilities like that someday, and fail?

  Then her anger took over. Xiao Yen threw the paper to her table in disgust. She was no good. Nothing was right. Maybe she should have just stayed at Gan Ou’s, and not come back. Give up.

  Xiao Yen glanced into the courtyard. The younger students had gone to their afternoon classes. No one expected her until dinner. Xiao Yen stretched her arms in front of her and rolled her wrists. Maybe a walk to Bao Fang would be good for her. Master Wei didn’t approve of his older students going into the city without his permission, but he was busy with a class.

  Xiao Yen leaned over her table, then stood up straight. Her lucky amulet slapped against her neck. She fingered it ruefully. Maybe she wasn’t as lucky as she’d once thought. Then she left.

  Xiao Yen marched into town, sounding off with each step: unfair, unfair, unfair. Little winds whirled around her feet, spinning the dust in the road up to her knees.

  She could never please everyone.

  If she got married, like Fu Be Be and Gan Ou wanted, she’d disappoint Wang Tie-Tie, and all her training would go to waste. She’d lose her quiet, her calm. If she got a position with a foreigner, she’d disappoint and anger her mother. There was no way for her to please them both. When Wang Tie-Tie died, her mother would win. Xiao Yen would have to get married. Wasn’t that what girls were supposed to do? Maybe her mother should win.

  Xiao Yen shuddered at the thought of having to work for foreigners, with their impossible language, their dirty habits. She’d be cast out from her own people forever.

  Xiao Yen snorted. She was an outcast now. It didn’t matter what she did. People in Bao Fang would always talk about her upbringing, even when she was as old as Wang Tie-Tie. Things could only be different if she went someplace else. Yet in a new place she’d be a stranger, and talked about anyway. Her family would be far away, both a blessing and a curse.

  As Xiao Yen neared Bao Fang, she modified her walk to a casual stroll. She didn’t want people to stare at her any more than they already did. She decided to walk to the northern market, stare at the foreigners, see the worst of her fate. She rubbed her amulet hard. She’d always been so lucky. Maybe her luck would win out, pull her through. Xiao Yen closed her eyes and stopped on the dusty road for a moment. She breathed a brief prayer to Jing Long. Help her see a clear way out of this.

  Then she remembered visiting the well with Bing Yu. She’d always been sure there was some magic there, but that last visit, she hadn’t felt anything. Maybe there never had been anything for her to feel; maybe it was just an old well. She started walking again, then paused and spat in disgust.

  “There!” she said under her breath. “That’s what I think of you, old dragon!”

  “Xiao Yen!” someone called from behind her.

  She jumped and looked over her shoulder. Bing Yu waved at her, dressed in a coat so bright and yellow it glowed. Patterns of green pine and red berries dotted the front and sleeves. Her pants shone pure silver. Though Xiao Yen’s coat was new, it was a dark forest green, with no embroidery.

  Bing Yu’s nurse was dressed in a coat the same color as Xiao Yen’s.

  Xiao Yen refused to let her plain clothes bother her. She waved to her friend. A sudden gust of wind buffeted her back, pushing her toward Bing Yu.

  “You bad girl!” Bing Yu said, hitting Xiao Yen on the arm.

  Had Bing Yu heard what Xiao Yen had said as she’d spat?

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming into town?”

  Xiao Yen grinned in relief. “Oh, I just decided to go,” she said casually.

  Bing Yu opened her eyes wide. “Really? You didn’t ask permission?”

  Xiao Yen replied, “No, I didn’t.” Her voice sounded grim even to her ears.

  “What’s wrong? Why did you rebel?” Bing Yu asked.

  Xiao Yen smiled, the tightness easing in her chest. There was real concern in Bing Yu’s voice. She wasn’t just searching for gossip. Maybe it would help Xiao Yen if she could talk with someone about her dilemma.

  “My sister, Gan Ou, talked with Chieh-yeh Be Be, the matchmaker, and she’s agreed to find me a husband. Wang Tie-Tie wants me to get a position protecting a caravan, but no one except foreigners will hire me. And Wang Tie-Tie’s so old. Even if I get a position, my mother might take it away. I’m tired of practicing all the time, always studying, always exercising, and for what? That official from Huang Hwa thought I was a charity case. No one believes a girl can be a paper mage.” Xiao Yen rolled the bitter words around her tongue, and spat again, trying to take the foul taste out of her mouth.

  “What are you going to do?” Bing Yu asked breathlessly. “Are you going to give up magic?”

  “I don’t know,” Xiao Yen replied. “If I get married, I’ll get a bad husband, because I went to Master Wei’s school. If I get a position, it’ll be a bad position, because I’m a girl. No matter what I do, it’s going to be bad. I don’t know what to choose.” Should she deny her Wang Tie-Tie? Forget her promise to do something worthy? There were still those scars on Wang Tie-Tie’s arm to consider. Or should she deny her mother, her sister, all convention, and accept a position? If one was ever offered to her?

  “If you give up magic, your aunt can’t force you to travel with foreigners,” Bing Yu told her, tucking her arm into Xiao Yen’s and walking through the gate into Bao Fang. Her nurse followed at a discreet distance behind them.

  “It would break Wang Tie-Tie’s heart if I just quit. She’s waited her whole life for someone in our
family . . . to show potential,” Xiao Yen ended, not wanting to spill family secrets to Bing Yu.

  Bing Yu walked in silence for a while. They passed the street leading toward Xiao Yen’s family compound. Here there were no beggars, but many more scholars and businessmen. There were also water boys, monks in their saffron robes, and mothers shepherding their children. Though the sun shone down warmly, there was still an occasional gust of wind to send shivers down Xiao Yen’s back.

  It wasn’t until they were close to the center of the city, near the well, that Bing Yu spoke. “I know!” she said. “You don’t have to tell anyone you’re giving up your magic. You can just do something to make it leave.”

  “What do you mean?” Xiao Yen asked. She’d never thought of her magic as a part of her, like her hand or her foot. Her “magic” was her knowledge, her skill. She couldn’t just forget everything she’d learned.

  “You can spit at the altar of Zhang Gua Lao, your patron saint. That will show him that you don’t want to do magic anymore, and he’ll take it away from you,” Bing Yu said.

  Xiao Yen gasped, horrified. How could she spit at Zhang Gua Lao? It would be like spitting on the grave of her father. “I couldn’t do that,” Xiao Yen said.

  “Sure you could,” Bing Yu said. “You just need to work up to it in small steps. I know! You can start by doing what I did, and spitting at the altar of Jing Long.” Bing Yu grasped Xiao Yen’s arm. “Come on, it’s right here,” she said, pulling Xiao Yen down the street toward the well.

  Xiao Yen dragged her feet, not wanting to get any closer.

  Bing Yu didn’t notice, and continued building her plans. “Then, after you spit here, maybe tomorrow, you could go spit at Jing Long’s altar in the White Temple.”

  Xiao Yen pulled her arm out of Bing Yu’s grasp. Her friend stopped, turned, and faced Xiao Yen, arms akimbo. “Nothing happened to me when I spit at this altar. Nothing will happen to you. Not by doing this. Or are you afraid the dragon will crawl out of the well and come get you, like some demon your old nurse told you about? You’re the one who said you didn’t see any magic in that old well.”