Mulan, page 12
“This is ridiculous!” Mulan burst out. “I am no one’s bride!”
The Magistrate’s eyes bulged slightly, perhaps in surprise at Mulan’s outspoken manner, an uncommon trait in most girls. But he pasted on as pleasant a face as possible.
“I am afraid you are,” he said, his voice as smooth as oil. He looked at the mass of people fixated upon them. “This, uh…” He looked at the Hag, who scowled back at him before he continued. “This honored elder, here, has been able to determine what has caused the disturbance in our river,” he said. “It seems the River King lost his mate and has been unhappy ever since. He has been longing for a new wife.”
Mulan stared at him in disbelief. Honored elder? She turned to look at the old Hag, who returned her gaze with a sly smile. Mulan felt her insides turn to ice. That smile. It was familiar. This face was wrinkled and spotted with ugly, hairy boils, but it was the same smile she had seen on a face as beautiful as a fairy’s.
“While such an honor would be great for any girl in our city”—the Magistrate spoke these last words loudly and slowly, giving the crowd in front of him a baleful look—“the, uh, honored elder was able to determine that his destined bride would ride into the city on a black horse. You came riding in today on a black horse, so, uh…you…uh…are the…uh…chosen bride,” he finished pitifully.
“No, no!” Mulan said, desperately. “That…that…woman is after me. Don’t you see? She’s just trying to trick you into getting rid of me!”
The Hag cackled. “Now, don’t be nervous, dear,” she said wickedly. “You’re going to be a queen.”
“Don’t listen to her!” Mulan pleaded to the crowd. “If you throw me in that river, you’ll be killing me!”
A wave of discomfort moved through the watching throng.
“People of the city!” the Hag shrieked. “Do you want the floods to continue? Do you like having hungry children? Do you like having your homes crumble on top of you as you sleep? Do you like having no future?”
The mass grumbled. “No!” a voice grunted, and the sound was echoed and repeated, becoming a babel of resentful discord.
“If you don’t,” the Hag said, her screech piercing into every ear, “then you must give the River King his bride!”
The cacophony of the crowd grew to a furor and the mob surged forward. Mulan saw the thousands of determined eyes and glittering teeth swelling toward her. She opened her mouth to scream. But before a sound could come out of her mouth, she felt the Rabbit’s head rub against her shoulder.
“Wait! Wait!” Mulan yelled as loud as she could, throat raw with her effort. “I’ll go! I’ll go! Just wait!”
The Magistrate held up his hands, holding the mob back. They halted but did not pull back. Mulan could feel that their mad desperation was past reason, and she saw the Hag’s sneer of satisfaction. There was no hope for her. She would not escape the furious river, but perhaps the Rabbit could.
“I’ll go,” Mulan said again, gulping. She tugged the pouch around toward her chest and then pulled at the cloth to reveal the Rabbit. “But you must promise not to hurt my pet rabbit.”
“Pet rabbit?” A voice from the back of the crowd boomed above all others, silencing all sound. A man came into view. He was tall, with a lengthy black beard, and while he wore a scholar’s robe, a long sword was strapped to his back. He led a dark horse. Black Wind!
But even the relief of seeing Black Wind again did not lessen the wonder of the newcomer. There was something formidable about him. Perhaps it was the way he held himself, as if the air somehow weighed less upon him. Or perhaps it was the way he moved, like a mighty dragon about to leap into the sky. Whatever it was, all felt his power and were awed. Noiselessly, the crowd parted to make a pathway for him, and the sound of his footsteps echoed as he walked up to Mulan.
“Pet rabbit?” the man said again, his eyes twinkling even as his voice thundered. “If that rabbit is a pet, then I am not Lu Ting-Pin!”
LU TING-PIN! The Rabbit rolled his eyes at the tall man and Mulan felt a rush of hope. She looked out at the crowd, many of them looking confused and whispering. Most didn’t know who Lu Ting-Pin was, she realized. They probably thought he was some sort of aristocrat, or perhaps a government official.
Mulan couldn’t tell if the Magistrate knew, but he definitely recognized Lu Ting-Pin as someone highly esteemed, for he bowed deeply.
Without waiting for the Magistrate to rise, Lu Ting-Pin addressed him.
“What is going on here?” he demanded.
“Master Lu,” the Magistrate said, in an ingratiating tone that made Mulan feel as if she had just eaten spoiled rice porridge, “we are conducting, uh…a…a ceremony to placate and honor the River King.”
“A ceremony?” Lu Ting-Pin snorted. “This looks more like an angry mob! Is this the way a civilized town is supposed to behave?”
“This is no business of yours, Lu Ting-Pin!” the Hag broke in. Lu Ting-Pin’s arrival seemed to have shocked her into silence, but she found her voice now. “The River King demands his bride! You are not wanted here!”
“A bride?” Lu Ting-Pin brushed aside the Hag’s objections as if he hadn’t heard them. “How do we know the River King wants a bride?”
“This…um…woman,” the Magistrate said, indicating the Hag. “She informed us that the River King contacted her with his wishes.”
“Did she?” Lu Ting-Pin said, arching an eyebrow. He looked at the Hag, who glared at him. “And you spoke with the River King yourself?”
“Of course,” the Hag snarled. “He told me that he would never stop flooding the river unless he had a new wife. So I notified the Magistrate immediately.”
“Who, of course, told these townspeople,” Lu Ting-Pin said, looking out at the sea of staring eyes, “and, no doubt, lined his pockets with bribes from fearful parents.”
The Magistrate started, making a choked noise of surprise and guilt. An undercurrent of grumbling clamored through the crowd.
“And once he couldn’t squeeze any more from them,” Lu Ting-Pin continued, “you were able to divine a bride of destiny, am I correct?”
“I asked the River King to tell me which woman he wished,” the Hag said, her chin rising in defiance. “And he told me she would ride into town on a black horse, and there she is!” The Hag’s voice rose to an enraged screech and she pointed at Mulan. “That is the River King’s bride! She must go to the bottom of the river, now!”
“This is the River King’s bride?” Lu Ting-Pin said, his calm, unhurried manner like water upon the fire the Hag tried to stoke. He turned to Mulan and looked at her carefully, then turned back to the Hag, shaking his head. “This cannot be his bride. She is too young! She is not yet of marrying age.”
“When they marry matters not!” the Hag snapped. “He wants his betrothed with him below!”
“That makes no sense,” Lu Ting-Pin said. “If the poor River King has been in anguish over loneliness, why would he choose a bride he must wait to marry? There must be some mistake.”
“There’s no mistake!” the Hag ranted. “We must send this girl into the river!”
“Come, come,” Lu Ting-Pin said, again in his untroubled way. He turned to the Magistrate and looked at him directly. “We don’t want send the River King the wrong bride, do we? That’s apt to make him even angrier.”
The Magistrate shifted uncomfortably, his face growing flushed as Lu Ting-Pin continued to fix his gaze upon him. “No, no,” the Magistrate mumbled, “we don’t want to anger the River King.”
“I think we should make sure we know what the River King wants,” Lu Ting-Pin continued. He glanced over to the Hag. “Why don’t you go down and ask him?”
“What?” the Hag sputtered. “Me? Go down?”
“Yes,” Lu Ting-Pin said nonchalantly. “You need to find out exactly what the River King wants.”
“I…I…I am not going to the bottom of the river!” the Hag said, her eyes narrowing with seething anger. “Not me!”
“But of course, you,” Lu Ting-Pin said. “You are the River King’s emissary. You already know him so well.” He turned again to the Magistrate. “Don’t you think?”
The Magistrate’s face was now shiny with perspiration, completely flustered by Lu Ting-Pin’s revelations and the townspeople’s angry, suspicious eyes. “Um, yes,” the Magistrate said, wiping his forehead and looking back and forth from the man to the Hag. “Perhaps it’s best if she…uh…you…go see the River King.”
A roar of agreement rose from the crowd as all finally grasped some of the truth. “He’s right. Why would the River King want this girl?” one person grumbled. “He could have his choice of goddesses and fairies.”
“I bet the River King didn’t ask for a bride at all!” accused another. “You just made the whole thing up so you could get more money out of us!”
“If anyone’s going to the bottom of the river,” someone yelled, “it should be you!”
And with that shout, years of pent-up resentment and bitterness seemed to burst from the crowd. They surged forward, an unstoppable cresting wave of fury. The Hag’s eyes widened, and with a shriek of wrath, she stepped back and jumped into the river. The Magistrate stared openmouthed at the empty air where the Hag used to be and then back at the surging mob. He yelped, then bolted away like a runaway pig.
The crowd swarmed after him. Lu Ting-Pin put one arm around Mulan’s shoulders and the other around Black Wind, and the teeming hordes passed them by as if they were rocks in a rush of water. Mulan heard their frenzied howls and crashing feet, their clenched fists and gnashing teeth, but the rampage was a blur around her.
For while everyone else was looking elsewhere, Mulan’s eyes were fixed upon the Hag. So when the Hag disappeared into the river, no one but Mulan saw the white fox tail poking out from the waves, nor did anyone but Mulan see the miraculous transformation of that tail into a fish’s.
SOON, LU TING-PIN, Mulan, and the Rabbit were alone. They could hear faint howling echoes as the town’s magistrate received justice from the townspeople, but the Magistrate must have been quite a good runner, for the pandemonium was a great distance away.
“Tuzi! My old friend!” Lu Ting-Pin boomed, his face splitting into a wide grin. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Yan,” the Rabbit said, pushing his head and paws out of the pouch. “What do you think I am doing here? I’m looking for you.”
“Trouble, then?” Lu Ting-Pin said, sitting down next to the odd-shaped boulder, the shadows of its crags and hollows making the rock look like a deformed companion. He motioned for Mulan to sit down, which, after giving Black Wind a reassuring pat, she was only too happy to do. While Lu Ting-Pin and the Rabbit were greeting each other as if they had happened to meet in a teahouse, Mulan’s knees were shaking. Had she almost just been thrown into the river? She felt more dazed than when she had fallen off the roof as a child. Mulan took a deep breath and shook her head in disbelief.
Lu Ting-Pin studied her, his keen eyes scanning her face. “I see you chose your companion here for battle. Her destiny of—”
“Mulan is with me by chance,” the Rabbit interrupted hurriedly, “and the only destiny we need to concern ourselves with is that of her sister.”
The Rabbit wiggled out of the pouch and onto Mulan’s lap. Lu Ting-Pin’s eyes widened as he saw the Rabbit’s bare, injured leg.
“And yours!” Lu Ting-Pin gasped. “Tuzi! This is a mortal injury.”
“I know,” the Rabbit said. “Mulan’s sister suffers from the same. We need to get to the Queen Mother’s garden by the new moon. Can you take us?”
“Of course!” Lu Ting-Pin stood as if to make ready immediately.
“Wait,” the Rabbit said, “there’s more. We need to stop at Green Island as well. And our adversary is the White Fox.”
“Ah,” Lu Ting-Pin sat down again. “The White Fox. And she is still with—”
“Yes,” the Rabbit said. Mulan looked at them both curiously.
Lu Ting-Pin’s jaw clenched. “It’s good,” he said. “In fact, it is perfect.” He stood and pulled the sword from his back, the red sash swirling from its handle. As he held it in his hands, Mulan was startled to see that the sword was carved of wood, not forged of metal. But Lu Ting-Pin did not notice her look of surprise, for he was gazing at his sword with a somber, prayerful look. “She will be the one to finish my penance,” he said.
“You only have one more?” the Rabbit asked. “Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine already?”
“Yes,” Lu Ting-Pin answered. He was still looking at the sword solemnly, but Mulan could see the hint of a satisfied smile tug at the corner of his mouth. She shrugged. Maybe the Rabbit would explain these cryptic exchanges to her later.
Lu Ting-Pin looked up from his sword. “So, we should not wait any longer,” he said, and then glanced down at the Rabbit. “In fact, my friend, with the amount of chi you are losing from that wound, I think we should leave immediately.”
The Rabbit nodded. Mulan stood up, carrying the Rabbit in her arms.
“We can pick up supplies at Green Island,” Lu Ting-Pin said. He looked at the Rabbit and Mulan and tapped his fingers against his chin, mouthing numbers as he measured their weight in his mind. “We’ll need a large rock or boulder to help keep the boat stable.”
“And don’t forget the horse,” the Rabbit said. Mulan looked back and forth between them in confusion. What boat? And what about Black Wind?
“Ah, yes,” Lu Ting-Pin said, gazing at Black Wind. Then he looked at Mulan. “He’ll have to return home. A sea voyage to Kunlun Mountain is not the place for a horse.”
Mulan put the arm not holding the Rabbit around Black Wind. “Home?” she asked. “By himself? How will he get there?”
“He knows the way,” Lu Ting-Pin said. He placed the wooden sword under his arm and pulled a red thread from the sash attached to the handle. He handed it to Mulan. “Tie this onto your horse and he’ll get home safely.”
Mulan lowered the Rabbit to the ground and took the thread, watching it sway in the air as she walked to Black Wind. She placed the thread around Black Wind’s neck, expecting it to be too short, but the string magically elongated and she was able to tie it securely. The horse nickered and nuzzled her ear as she patted his muzzle.
“Don’t forget the saddlebags,” said the Rabbit, who was standing by her feet. Black Wind neighed and lowered his head down to the Rabbit, who reached up to tap his nose.
“He’ll be all right?” Mulan asked the Rabbit as she gave the horse one last hug. It would be hard to leave Black Wind behind.
“Yes,” the Rabbit said, and Black Wind neighed again as she picked up the saddlebags. “He will be fine.”
“He has much more cause to worry about us than we do about him,” Lu Ting-Pin said, surveying the riverbank carefully. “Now, which rock should we use?” he mused. “It should be fairly large…”
“Why don’t we just use that one?” Mulan said, nodding her head toward the strange-shaped boulder he had sat next to. She had noticed that rock the moment she was brought to the river, with its top-heavy, crouching shape and weather-aged perforations. It was misshapen and slightly monstrous looking, but as Mulan looked at it longer, there was something sadly beautiful about it as well.
Lu Ting-Pin hesitated and then cocked his head at the Rabbit, who shrugged in return. “Interesting choice,” he said. “But a good one. I think it’s just about the right size and weight for the boat.”
“Uh, good,” Mulan said. However, now it was her turn to hesitate. She glanced up and down the empty river. “But, uh, Master Lu? What boat are you talking about?”
Lu Ting-Pin looked around to make sure no stray townspeople were about and then grinned at her. “This one,” he said.
And, in a swift, fluid motion, he whipped the sword out from under his arm and hurled it at the river. The sword spun in the sky, faster and faster, and then arched downward like a diving crane. As it hit the water, giant splashes flew into the air, showering all of them with droplets. Mulan wiped the water from her eyes, gawking, and then wiped her eyes again.
For instead of a sword floating in the water, as she expected, there was now a wooden boat.
SHE WAS dripping and bedraggled as she crawled out of the river, the water darkening her crimson fur to a murky brown. When she finally pulled herself onto the bank, she lifted her head and then spat out the white fish she had been holding in her mouth. The fish leapt upward and a clapping sound filled the air as the fish transformed into a lovely, graceful woman.
“Lu Ting-Pin!” Daji said the name viciously, as if she were cursing. “How dare he!”
She remained a wet fox panting on the ground.
“Xianniang!” Daji barked, not bothering to speak the rest of her order.
With a shudder, the fox transformed into a woman. Her clothes and hair were wet and she lay on her back, panting.
“Get up!” Daji said impatiently. “You have work to do.”
Xianniang pushed herself up, still slightly breathless. “What do you want me to do now?” she said, trying to keep her petulant feelings from her voice. She did not succeed, for Daji snapped back with anger.
“You ungrateful mixed egg!” Daji said. “Don’t you forget what you owe me! Everything you have is because of me!”
That was true, Xianniang knew. With the skills Daji had taught her, she could fit in anywhere. She had the power to be anyone and anything. Except for herself.
For when she was herself, she had nothing. She belonged nowhere and was not only unwanted but rejected by all. Her exile was also because of Daji.
She remembered, even if Daji did not, all the eyes upon her in horror. She remembered the clenching teeth, the wave of hands gripping their swords surrounding her. Daji had made her escape, but she had been left to face the whispers. “Witch,” they had hissed. “Witch.”
“Xianniang!” Daji snapped, as if ready to box her ears.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said humbly, forcing herself from her reverie.
