A Magic Steeped in Poison, page 23
It dips its head and drinks its fill.
I stumble backward, Lian catching me as the connection between me and Peng-ge is severed when the bird loses consciousness.
“All right?” she asks quietly, and I nod, draining the flask she passes me, eager to wash the filth of that taste out of my mouth. It tastes of cruelty and power, not so different a flavor from the crow’s head. But my stomach turns before I have a chance to consider it further.
Lian works to rid the poison from Peng-ge, using what we learned from expelling the poison from Ruyi. The crimson mushroom for strength, then the umbrella-tree bark to wrestle with the toxin. The effects of the poison are weakened, as the bird only drank the infused water and did not eat the jīncán itself.
I empty my stomach into a pot in the pavilion corner, understanding intimately now what Mother meant about Shénnóng’s price. The magic turns on the wielder tenfold if using it for harm. But I’ve never gone against her teachings before, and it feels like a slight against her memory.
A fleeting thought occurs to me while I am sick: How powerful the shénnóng-shī who is responsible for the tea bricks must be, to be able to direct the poison at so many, with seemingly no effect against themselves.
“Here.” I look up to see Wenyi offering me a handkerchief, averting his eyes. I accept it with a mumbled thanks, aware of my disheveled appearance. I use it to wipe the spittle from my lips and face, making myself presentable again. He acknowledges me with a nod, before returning to his spot beside Chengzhi.
By the time I return to stand beside Lian, the servants have already cleaned the enclosure. She gives me a small nod, indicating she has completed her task successfully, and we face the judges, ready to hear if we have passed their test.
Elder Guo stands with drawn brows, appearing conflicted. The marquis regards me with a scowl while Minister Song shakes his head slowly. The chancellor whispers something to the princess, who nods in response.
“The judges have deliberated and have determined you acted in accordance with the rules of the competition,” the elder announces. “While we do not condone this type of … influence upon such helpless creatures, we recognize that you did bid the Piya to drink the contaminated water, and purged the poison from it. You will continue on to the final round of the competition.”
It was not the pretty resolution they had hoped for, not the sort of demonstration they can magnanimously present to dignitaries and officials, but we have solved the riddle. I know now their preferences for the type of pretty magic common in the capital, and it makes me seethe. This much is clear: They know nothing of life outside these beautiful walls. I ball the handkerchief tight into the palm of my hand, reminded yet again how I do not fit into their expectations of courtly behavior.
Lian places her hand on my shoulder, as if she can sense my dark thoughts. I know the ugliness of the emotions I had to draw on in order to hurt that bird, and I am ashamed of them.
“We did it,” she whispers. I wish I felt elation at our accomplishment, and not a sense of approaching dread.
There is a short break as the servants approach to hang lanterns from the roof of the pavilion, providing illumination for the final pair. Crickets sound in the distance. Somewhere in the dark, a frog croaks.
Wenyi and Chengzhi approach the platform and bow to the judges. Chengzhi is the one who releases the bird, while it is Wenyi who takes charge of the poison. He shields the lower part of his face with a covering and grinds the jīncán into powder—the traditional approach, as it is odorless and tasteless, perfect for slipping into any waiting food or drink.
Chengzhi brings over a large pot and sets it on the ground before Wenyi, who pours in the powder. We all watch expectantly as the pot begins to shake, the sound of something moving within. With held breath, we hear the noise grow louder as something thrashes within. And then … stillness. Whatever is inside has succumbed to the jīncán’s poison.
Using two long sticks, Chengzhi pulls out a dripping snake from the pot. I recognize the slender form of a water snake, brown body with black speckled patterns. It hangs limply as Chengzhi maneuvers it to the enclosure, shutting it within the same space as their Piya. The bird retreats to the back of the cage, regarding the intruder with caution.
Lian and I look at each other, not understanding how the Piya is to ingest the poison if it is already contained within the snake. Wenyi draws out a piece of something black and crumbling from a pouch on his tray and places it under his tongue.
A strange, cool wind sweeps through the pavilion, stirring our hair and our sleeves. The lanterns sway above our heads, their shadows jumping across the stone floor. The scent of frost, with a hint of pine, hangs in the air. Like stepping into the forest in winter, when we ascend the narrow paths into the mountains to harvest wild mushrooms. When I tip my face up to the sky, I am almost certain snow is beginning to fall—
“It’s moving!” someone gasps.
Returning my attention to the enclosure, I see the body of the snake twitch. It moves in an odd manner, as if it is constructed from segments like a wooden toy. It pulls itself together in an approximation of life, yet it should be dead. The snake rises and its head bobs jerkily, tongue darting out, tasting the air.
There is something wrong with its eyes, covered with a pale film.
It turns, still bobbing in that unnatural way, bumping its head against the mesh. Swaying, it veers and then—it meets my eyes. For a moment, the two of us regard each other in stillness, until its head swivels away, and it returns to its search.
I only imagined it, I’m sure.
The snake notices the bird then and raises itself up in a challenge. Its shadow lengthens on the stone floor. The Piya extends its wings, seeking an escape route, screeching a warning, but there is nowhere for it to go. The snake hisses, baring its fangs. The snake is the first to attack, darting forward. With a furious squawk, the bird takes hold of it in its talons, even as the snake fights to break free. The bird bites the snake again and again, sending bloody splatters against the floor of the enclosure. Until at last, the snake seemingly succumbs to its wounds and lies still. The bird, also bloodied, begins to tremble and then shake, the poison taking hold.
On the floor, their shadows quiver, forming mysterious shapes, clawed creatures approaching our feet. I step back, even though I am almost certain they are just shadows … almost. The scent of frost grows stronger, and our breath can be seen in the air, an impossibility in summer.
Chengzhi strides forward, a small dish in hand. He places it in front of the bird, and I recognize what’s on it as feverberry, the same berry I offered to Peng-ge in the library earlier, the one that induces mild vomiting. The bird pecks at it and eats the clump of berries rapidly, then throws up a mess of black liquid. The poison expelled, death averted.
Wenyi lets out a sigh, and the shadows in the pavilion ease, retreating back into their normal shapes. He wipes his brow and takes a sip of water, his complexion paler than normal.
The judges clap politely. The marquis frowns, covering his face with a handkerchief, his distaste clear. Minister Song appears slightly pale, taking a quick sip of his water as well.
“That was certainly a sight to behold.” Elder Guo strides forth with a raised brow. “Use the poison to create a threat, forcing the bird to be on the defensive, and in doing so, ingest a small amount of jīncán in the snake’s blood. One that can easily be expelled by purging.”
“Can the snake be revived?” the princess asks, appearing troubled.
“No, Highness.” Wenyi bows his head. “It is animation, approximating movement, nothing more.” A puppet, dancing from a string. It is a clever solution, but one unappreciated by the judges.
“Pity,” the chancellor comments. “It would have been preferable if the snake could have lived.”
Their Piya is carried out of the enclosure, making pitiful noises, but my attention remains on the snake, remembering the one that attacked me on the rock. It does not move, its one visible pale eye staring into nothing. The servant slides it back into the pot, where it lands in the water with a heavy squelch. Blood drips down the side of the table.
It’s dead, I repeat to myself. And the shadows are only shadows. As if repeating it often enough will make it true.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
We stand before Elder Guo, waiting to be dismissed, the round concluded.
“Only six remain.” She clasps her hands together. “Six competitors, but room for only three in the final round.”
“Three?” Guoming yelps, his confidence slipping in an instant. The four young men regard each other uneasily, assessing who is the biggest threat—notably ignoring Lian and me.
“Legend says that when the world was first created, there were six gods. The Bird of the South, the Tiger of the North, the Carp of the East, and the Tortoise of the West. The Twin Gods ruled over them all—the Jade Dragon of the river and the Gold Serpent of the cloud sea. But the Gold Serpent became jealous of how our ancestors worshipped the Jade Dragon for bringing water to their fertile lands and offered up great treasures that filled his underwater palace.”
Even if it is a story I have heard many times before, her words ring hypnotic in the air, drawing us in.
“He deceived his brother by luring him into his mountain domain, and trapped him under the granite peaks of Kūnmíng. To demonstrate his displeasure at the pitiful humans, the Gold Serpent flooded the Purple Valley with storms, and many perished.
“The four remaining gods attempted to overthrow the Gold Serpent, but he proved too powerful for even the other gods. They banded together and broke the Jade Dragon from his prison, and the skies thundered from the fierce battle. Brother against brother. God against god.”
The ancient story spoken into the night seems to gain power on its own, and the wind stills. Even the frogs have stopped croaking. There is only silence as we listen to the conclusion of the creation tale.
“When the Gold Serpent finally fell from the sky, his blood dotted the lakes and ponds of Dàxī like rain. Where his blood touched water, water lilies bloomed. But the Jade Dragon also perished, and the four gods lifted him up into the heavens. They were never seen to walk among humans again.”
Elder Guo’s voice softens. “When the water lily flowers, we remember how the gods once roamed the earth. In the pond behind me there are three water lilies with treasure hidden inside their blooms. The first three of you to find one and bring it back to us will continue forward in the competition. May the gods guide you in your search.”
She bows, and the challenge is on.
A loud splash sounds as Guoming has already raced down the stone steps and is in the water, shoving aside floating leaves. Chengzhi is not far behind him, taking just as little care with the plants. Shao carefully steps into the water, reaching down to tentatively touch a closed bud. Wenyi stands at the edge of the pond, considering the stretch of water lilies before him with a pensive look. The fragile alliances have already broken, each of them now fending for themselves.
“Treasure.” Lian joins me at the water’s edge. “What do you think it means?”
“I’m not sure.” I frown, kneeling by the trampled path through the lilies that Guoming and Chengzhi made with their bodies. Touching my finger to a leaf, I can sense the plants screaming, their roots having been disturbed. Even without tea as a bridge, the plants have always spoken to me. I can hear their pleasure in sunny days or when they murmur excitedly, Rain is coming, like small children.
But the magic makes it easier to sense them, hear them whispering to each other. The people came. The people came into the water, but they were careful. Not like these brutes. They will not find what they are looking for.
What they remember: fingers carefully prying open a bloom, holding it apart. Something being placed inside, small in size. Round, with a pungent scent. I ask them if they will show me where these secrets are.
I open my eyes and Lian is watching me, a small smile on her lips.
“I know where they are,” I say to her, voice low so the others do not hear. “I’ll get you one. Come, we can go to the final round together.”
Lian’s smile wavers when I expect her to exclaim with her typical enthusiasm and delight, and I do not understand why.
“Remember when we first met?” I gesture at the men splashing, stumbling about in the dark. “We wanted to show them there are shénnóng-tú outside Jia. To prove them wrong. Here is our chance!”
It could be her attempt at kindness, to make sure she will not be my competitor in the final round, but I want to be there with her together. A worthy friend and opponent.
“I’m sorry, Ning.” She shakes her head. “I can’t go ahead in this competition. I wanted to tell you tonight, after the end of this round. My family is returning to Kallah.”
Even though I know the nature of the competition means we will have to part eventually, I had hoped she would still remain in the palace because of her father’s position. That I would still have a friend and wouldn’t have to be alone.
Seeing the look on my face, she leans closer and whispers, “The princess has sent me away for another purpose. Do not worry about me.” She pokes me in the shoulder, hard. “Go!”
I return to the water lilies, still reluctant. It doesn’t seem fair. But the plants whisper eagerly, directing me to where the prize is hidden. There … there …
Following their encouragements, I find one not far away, a flower that whispers about the secret tucked inside it. The wet seeps into my shoes and the bottom of my skirt as I bend down and cup my hand around the bloom, asking for permission to reach within.
The poets call them “Sleeping Beauties,” because they open with the midday heat and then close at night when the air cools. But under my fingers, the petals slowly unfurl, revealing a small black ball at the center. I pick it up, and it pulses with a peculiar warmth against my skin. I give the water lilies my silent thanks, and the surrounding blooms wave in acknowledgment.
Stepping out of the pond, I am the first to return to the pavilion, and offer the ball for Elder Guo’s inspection. She sniffs it and nods, proclaiming that it is good. Someone else gives a shout as another competitor discovers the next hidden treasure. I wince at the number of water lilies that were disturbed for them to find their prize, and hope the gardeners will be able to tend to them.
We all return to the pavilion after a time. I stand with Wenyi and Shao as the ones who emerge victorious. Guoming’s dark expression does not hide his displeasure at losing so close to the end, and Chengzhi looks resigned, arms crossed. Lian is the only one who still looks pleased, as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.
“For the three of you who will not be moving forward, I commend you all for reaching this point of the competition,” Minister Song says, resuming his role as the Minister of Rites. “You will return to your households with recognition, commendations sent to your shénnóng-shī, and treasures for your families. You will be reunited with them tomorrow. Rest well tonight.”
The three of them bow and leave the pavilion. Lian gives me a wink of encouragement and a wave, then she’s gone. Even though I should be glad I am moving on to the next round, I still feel a sense of loss.
“Now…” Minister Song returns to us, regarding us intensely. “The final round of the competition. The future court shénnóng-shī stands before me.” He meets our eyes in turn, as if he is able to see our weaknesses, our doubts and hesitations.
“The astronomers have spoken,” he announces. “A ruler will ascend, and the court shénnóng-shī will provide wisdom and guidance, like those who have advised before you. Your final trial will be presented before the court. They will witness the marvels of Shénnóng and deem one of you worthy.
“Keep the medicine ball you found inside the water lilies. You will need it for the next round.” We all look down at the inconspicuous shape in our hands, wondering what clue it might provide us about what awaits us in the final round. “Your belongings will be moved into the Residence of Harmonious Spring tonight. And tomorrow … we shall see which one of your stars will shine the brightest over Jia.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The weak morning light illuminates my unfamiliar, luxurious surroundings. Without Lian’s morning greeting or even Peng-ge’s chirpy serenade, the room feels cold.
I’ve made it to the final round. My goal is within reach, yet I remain restless.
I try to distract myself by reading through Wondrous Tales, but it does not have the same pull as those stories usually do.
Walking through our garden courtyard, I see Shao and Wenyi playing a game of strategy through the open doors of Shao’s quarters. The two mirror each other, focus intent on the board before them, elbows on their knees. Directing their horses and chariots across the board. There is no invitation extended to me, and I do not intrude. I am well aware of where I fit in these perfumed corridors.
I attempt to leave the residence to at least stroll in the gardens, but there are soldiers positioned at the door by decree of the chancellor, for our own protection. But I’ve seen how easy it is to enter and leave the palace, the number of tunnels that run through the walls. How safe can any of us ever be in the palace?
“Wait!” one of the soldiers calls out to me. “A letter came for you.” He bows and passes me a bamboo scroll, secured with twine.
I sit on the redwood stool in my receiving room and examine the scroll, expecting it to be a letter of farewell from Lian. Except when I open it, I realize it does not unfurl. Instead it is a tube meant for transport, something sealed within—a rolled-up sheet of paper and a soft scrap of embroidered fabric.
A peony, the empress of flowers, blooms from the center of the fabric, a vibrant red. Each petal is lined with gold thread, stitched with painstaking detail. But it is growing in a bed of rippling grasses of a peculiar color, deep red to dark purple. In the background are spotted branches like trees, in various shades of pink. The moon glows in the sky like a watchful eye.
