Fairytales Slashed: Volume 8

by Samantha M. Derr

  And then she began to dance.

  Qiu Yue had never seen such a dance before. She knew the idea of it, in theory, told in the stories of the various merchants who had come and gone from the village over the years. She knew it was supposed to be beautiful, a sign of grace and ease, vastly different from the stumbling sort that she had used to practice, when she'd been young and able to slip away from other watching eyes. But when she glanced aside, at the magistrate, at his mother, at the merchant and the other girls, she thought, Ah, they've never seen anything like this, either.

  The fox moved like she weighed nothing at all, as if the wind that had sprung to life was carrying her, light and easy, from one step to the next. The layers of her robes, the long line of her sash, they all fluttered all around her, bright flashes of warm color against the pale sky. Every now and then, her dark eyes flashed into view, but Qiu Yue knew, with a certainty like a rock in her breast, that this performance was meant just for her.

  And behind her, there were the hornets. They clustered closer, in their dark angry cloud, and they broke apart, and they came together again. They followed the movement of the fox and her fluttering clothes, and more than once she strayed close enough to their trees that they seemed like they would be upon her in a moment—but each time, she swept away, easy and graceful. The wind was growing stronger now, enough that Qiu Yue had to adjust her grip on her veil to keep it from blowing away. The magistrate alone seemed unaffected, watching the fox dance with hungry eyes, but the hornets—oh, the hornets...

  She almost missed it at first, but when she noticed, it was impossible to look away from: the hornets were struggling against the wind, and though they were still trying to reach the fox, it was starting to prove impossible. The wind caught them, and it twirled them, and it drove them entirely away.

  The fox spun one last time, so that all her skirts and sashes flared upward, like the spreading of tremendous wings, and then she simply settled, her hands clasped before herself and her head bowed. There was a little smile on her face that looked quite mysterious, but Qiu Yue recognized it as laughter.

  Immediately following the gesture, there was silence. Then the magistrate's mother began to applaud. The merchant took it up immediately, and then the other girls—and then, finally, the magistrate himself. His eyes were quite covetous, watching the way the fox stepped forward again, so lightly that it looked like she was simply gliding across the ground. For just a moment, she glanced up from her demure downcast posture, and she met Qiu Yue's eyes.

  Go on and go back, her look said. I will handle this, and I will tell you later.

  Qiu Yue nodded, and with no small amount of relief. The merchant and magistrate were circling the fox like a pair of waiting carrion birds, and she did not at all like that look in their eyes. She turned and went back to her room, and she curled up by the open door out to the garden to wait. From where she sat, she could not see the two great trees where the hornets had made their nests. She could not tell if she was relieved or not for this.

  It was some time later—the sky was beginning to grow dark with the creeping shadow of night—when the fox finally returned. She looked as poised as before, without a single element out of place, but Qiu Yue turned to her, anxiety churning in the pit of her stomach.

  "You're all right?" she said, as soon as the fox closed the door behind herself. "I saw how they were looking at you. If they hurt you—"

  If they hurt her, then what? What could she even do? Qiu Yue bit her lip, but the fox seemed pleased by the concern, coming over to sit across from Qiu Yue. First she drew the veil back from Qiu Yue's face to smile at her, and then she reached to take her hands.

  "I'm all right, my dear friend," she said. "He wasn't brave enough to do anything foolish, not with his mother right there. I think he would have liked it," and here she made a bit of a face, her lips pulling back from her teeth in an expression between a sneer and a scowl, "but don't worry. He is not brave enough to try anything yet."

  "It is the 'yet' that concerns me," Qiu Yue said. It came out snappish in spite of her relief. If the magistrate got the idea he could visit her in the night, who would stop him? If he felt he could take liberties with the fox—again, who would stop him? She scowled fiercely, but the fox only laughed and squeezed her hands. It was not a reassurance, but she still felt something inside her calm regardless.

  "Tomorrow, he will call you in for breakfast," the fox said. "He will tell you all the things that his mother wants to eat, her likes and her dislikes. Listen to him carefully, but only pay note if she reacts at all." For a moment, her expression was that same one of disdainful humor, and then she shook it off once more. "He has spent a great deal of time cultivating an idea of what a mother should want. They are only partially the truth."

  "And knowing these things, do I tell them to you?" Qiu Yue asked.

  "You may, if you like," the fox said. "But you will be tasked with making dinner, and that will be an all-day affair. You will be expected to work alone, but in the eyes of people like this, 'alone' means with a servant." And she smiled.

  "Oh," Qiu Yue said, and then, "oh. So, you'll be with me."

  "I will guide your hands," the fox said. "He has already been so dazzled by that dance that he won't look at the two of us together very carefully. A man like that takes no note of a woman's subtleties once he has made the decision what she should be like."

  "What a dreadful way of looking at it," Qiu Yue said.

  "It's very human," the fox said. "But it's the sort of thing one may learn from. They will bring you supper soon. Do as you did yesterday: eat well, and sleep well, and tomorrow, we will set ourselves to work."

  "I'll be glad for your help," Qiu Yue said, because it was true.

  The fox only chuckled and drew the veil over her own head as a serving-maid came with a tray for dinner. The food on offer was even finer than the day before, and the maid kept staring at Qiu Yue under her lashes with an expression torn between awe and jealousy. For her part, she continued to smile politely, as if it did not at all occur to her to notice. The fox refused any of her meal when she offered to share, but she sat and she told Qiu Yue stories about a cat that had stolen a star out of the sky, of a spider who had been tasked to weave a dress for the Queen of the Moon and had been raised up to handmaid for her work, of a hawk that was terrified of flying, and how it had learned to overcome that fear. The stories were similar to the sort that Qiu Yue's mother had told her when she'd been small, and the nostalgia of that helped to settle her nerves.

  When she slept, it was quiet and dreamless as the night before.

  In the morning, she rose and let the fox dress her: the colors were still vivid, flashes of red and violet and gold, but the cut was more modest. For cooking, rather than for dancing, the fox said, as she drew Qiu Yue's hair back into a simple bun. She had dressed herself plainer still, though Qiu Yue would not tell where she had found the clothes.

  Breakfast with the magistrate was less helpful than Qiu Yue would have preferred and still more helpful than he might have liked. His gaze kept drifting down away from Qiu Yue's face to her throat and her hands with clear distracted interest.

  "My mother is old; her teeth are failing," he said at the end of the meal. "Her tongue is not as sharp as it once was. You will have to be strong and gentle both with her food. She likes all of the flavors to be in harmony, so that no one is more powerful than the other. Remember, she will be your mother in law if you succeed. You must be able to please her."

  He smirked at this, and Qiu Yue bowed her head to imitate deference. The magistrate left the room with swaggering confidence, and a maid came to lead Qiu Yue and the fox to the kitchens. She bowed and left without saying anything, but before Qiu Yue could turn to the fox and express her own anticipation, the fox held up a finger to her lips and looked to the door. Qiu Yue followed that glance and saw the shadow of someone's boot.

  When she looked at the fox again, the fox shook her head and gestured to the res
t of the kitchen. Someone had clearly gone shopping beforehand: there were more raw ingredients laid out in preparation than Qiu Yue had ever seen before in her entire life. Even the autumn harvests, when the whole of the village pooled their supplies for a feast, could barely compare.

  She looked again to that boot in the doorway. Was it the merchant or the magistrate? From the toe alone, she could hardly tell.

  "First, then, let's start with the rice," she said to the fox, who bowed her head and murmured acquiescence. The rice was simple; even if she had no idea at all what to make with the rest of this bounty, there was at least rice.

  As promised, the fox was her ally in this, as well: once the rice was in its pot to boil, she said, in a voice that was very much like Qiu Yue's, "We can do the dumplings next. The meal will be five courses. I want to have balance for all things that we do tonight." And then, in her own proper voice, she said, "Yes, ma'am."

  If she hadn't seen it herself, Qiu Yue knew she would not have believed it. She stopped to stare, and the fox only smiled at her, all with that same mysterious amusement. She gestured as if to say, Now get on with it, though she did not speak aloud, and this time Qiu Yue took the silent request and set herself to work.

  Her part of things was easy enough: she chopped, she cleaned, she kept watch over everything. The fox murmured instructions to her now and then, all in what was certainly her own voice—and wasn't that an odd thing to hear!—and she would flit back and forth, always doing something mysterious with a pot here or a pan there, though Qiu Yue could never quite catch her in the act. Sometimes when she looked up, the boot in the doorway was gone; other times, it was back, lingering as if the owner meant to step inside at any moment.

  This work was not so difficult. Cooking had always been split between herself, her mother, and Xiao Dan, and with his illness most of it had fallen to her. She found herself relaxing far more easily than she would have expected of herself. She did not sing, the way she might have at home in the safety of her own kitchen, but being able to do something, rather than stand by quietly to wait, cheered her immensely. She had no confidence that her skills alone would be enough to move a woman to tears, but at least this time she could say that it was her own work that carried her through.

  "You look happy," the fox said to her, when they stopped to eat their own meal—a portion of rice and pickled vegetables. The fox took her own share, though she picked slowly at it, and Qiu Yue was rather certain she did not take a single proper bite the whole time. "It suits you. I'm sorry that tomorrow's task will fall upon me again."

  Qiu Yue looked to the door, but the booted toe was gone. She shrugged at that, easier than before. "You're the fox," she said. "I don't imagine you would want to tell me your god's name, if one even exists."

  "Oh, it exists," the fox said, and for a moment she flashed teeth in her smile, white and sharp. "But that will not be anything you need worry about. I will keep my promise to you."

  "I'll be glad for that," Qiu Yue confessed. "I think if I had to live here for the rest of my life, it'd drive me mad."

  "Oh no," the fox said, and she reached out to touch the back of Qiu Yue's hands with soft fingertips. "Never fear that. I swear to you: it will be fine."

  Perhaps Qiu Yue should have laughed at that, or questioned it, but though the look on the fox's face made her chest tighten for a moment with something unnamed and wistful, it was not fear that unfurled in her. Qiu Yue nodded. She wanted to say, Of course I will believe in you. It is very easy when you smile like that, but she held her tongue.

  Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Qiu Yue found herself worrying that nothing would come together in time. It was starting to grow dark outside, and that boot remained there longer and longer now, until it was obvious that he was just waiting there. The magistrate, then, jealous and nervous. Perhaps his heart had been moved enough by the fox's dance that he regretted the tasks he had set, but he said nothing. Qiu Yue did her best not to mind. There was still more than enough to worry about within the kitchen itself.

  In the end, it all turned out. She might have called it magic, if she had not been working so hard herself; even then, she wasn't entirely certain it wasn't. She drew her hand across her brow and watched as the fox continued to flit from one dish to another. She did not seem to be doing anything but checking them, but Qiu Yue found herself wondering if maybe there was some silent blessing or spell she might be murmuring, unheard.

  And then it was time.

  The magistrate's mother was a woman with heavy bones, who had been reduced by age to something smaller and frailer. Looking at her, Qiu Yue could imagine the sort of power she might have once commanded, within herself and her household. There were still traces of it, and a handsomeness that was unusual in women but certainly not unpleasant. Her expression remained entirely neutral, almost a mask, and Qiu Yue found she could not at all read the expression in those bright eyes. Age had not clouded them. She watched the dishes being brought out of the kitchen with an unblinking gaze, but she kept her lips pressed closed without comment.

  Qiu Yue thought of what the magistrate had said about her, that she was no longer quite so aware of the world, and she wondered if he had paid any proper attention at all, or if his arrogance had driven him to make his assumption as his mother aged.

  As for the magistrate himself, he sat beside his mother with his hands tucked into his sleeves. He was far worse at keeping his expression schooled: there was something anxious in his eyes as he watched the fox bring dishes out. For a moment Qiu Yue was afraid that he had noticed the similarity in their features—would he recognize the fox as the woman who had danced for him yesterday? If he did, would he cry out and expose them both?

  But then his eyes slid away from the fox, like water over stone, and he looked to Qiu Yue instead. He was still nervous, but looking at her there was a ravenous hunger his eyes as well, and she found herself simultaneously comforted and repulsed. There was no way he had guessed, and there seemed to be no way he would guess.

  His mother took up her bowl, where there was clear soup. She looked into it, then up at Qiu Yue.

  "My appetite has been very poor as of late," she said. It sounded very nearly like an apology. "My son has been concerned for my health."

  "He is a good and dutiful son," Qiu Yue murmured. She kept her eyes downcast and polite. It was easier, in many ways, to swallow down her pride for the sake of an old tired woman than it was for her son. She listened as the magistrate's mother took a careful sip, and then another. Another. Qiu Yue held her breath.

  Finally, the magistrate's mother said, "My name is Mei Hui."

  "Mother," the magistrate said, like a protest, but Qiu Yue dared look up at that, her heart leaping. The old woman—Mei Hui—looked at her with calm eyes, and there was the smallest of smiles on her lips. It wasn't tears, but Qiu Yue found herself more heartened by that than if she had been entirely successful.

  And it was only the soup, she reminded herself. There was still time.

  More than that, she found her cheeks going pink at the implied compliment there. She had done well enough to warrant the woman's name, when they had no formal connection or introduction, and she found herself well pleased by that.

  Mei Hui nodded to her, solemn, and returned to her meal. She said nothing as she ate, though her son continued to watch her like a particularly nervous hawk. Perhaps there was some genuine filial concern in that, but Qiu Yue found herself frankly doubting that. She could not deny the nervousness she felt as well, watching Mei Hui eat.

  Finally, Mei Hui put her chopsticks down and let out a slow breath. Xiao Dan would sigh in a similar manner, when he was satisfied, and Qiu Yue took some hope from it. She waited anxiously as Mei Hui looked to her hands, and then she put them to her face. It was the sort of gesture that a weeping woman might do, and the magistrate drew in a sharp breath.

  "I concede," Mei Hui said, her voice muffled by her hands. "If you do not marry this girl, you will be doing yourself a d
isservice."

  "Mother," the magistrate said. His voice came out as a sort of breathless squawk and his face had gone a dull red, and Qiu Yue couldn't tell if he was offended or not. "Let me see your face."

  "That's a very rude thing to ask," Mei Hui said, and she clucked her tongue. "You made me the judge of this round, and so I have decided: I am moved; I have accepted her skill. That is my choice, and if you wish to have it taken back, you should have considered your trials more carefully before."

  The magistrate's face went a darker shade of red. He flexed his hands, as if he meant to reach out and pull Mei Hui's hands from her face. He went as far as reaching out, even, and then he caught Qiu Yue's eyes and drew himself up with a tremendous sort of frown. The sheer amount of offense in his eyes was laughable, but Qiu Yue bit her tongue and said nothing as he simply nodded to her, stiff and formal, and said, "Good-night," before he swept from the room.

  When he was gone, Mei Hui lowered her hands. Her eyes were dry and still quite clear.

  "You don't want to marry my son," she said.

  Startled by the comment, Qiu Yue said, before she could actually stop to think, "Oh, no, not at all." A moment later her words registered and she spun to stare, caught out and nervous. In the corner of the room, she saw the fox straighten up as well, as if she might step in to try and erase the mistake that Qiu Yue had made.

  Mei Hui, on the other hand, seemed more amused than anything. "A smart girl," she said. "My son does not deserve someone like you. I would have been disappointed if you'd set yourself such a low standard."

  "Ma'am," Qiu Yue stammered and then tried to correct herself, "Mother-in-Law—I mean, this is all very—"

  "Never mind that," said Mei Hui. "My name is Mei Hui. I cannot help you, but I do know a clever girl when I see one. If you pass his last test, I will welcome you happily as a daughter-in-law."

  Qiu Yue hesitated. She glanced at the fox, who had settled again. There was a smile on the fox's face, as if she'd realized some private joke, and Qiu Yue wished she could ask, if only to distract her own nerves.