A Dance of Mist and Fury, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
A Dance of Mist and Fury
Chapter 1 | One Summer’s Day
Chapter 2 | In the Rain
Chapter 3 | Goodbye Brother
Chapter 4 | Lord Kwan
Chapter 5 | Thistles & Sorrow
Chapter 6 | Lord Kwan II
Chapter 7 | It’s Hard Work
Chapter 8 | The Secret Door
Chapter 9 | Lord Kwan III
Chapter 10 | Summer’s End
Chapter 11 | Autumn Harvest
Chapter 12 | Lord Kwan IV
Chapter 13 | A New Arrangement
Chapter 14 | One Winter’s Night
Chapter 15 | Less Than Ordinary
Chapter 16 | It’s My Duty
Chapter 17 | Lord Kwan V
Chapter 18 | New Friends
Chapter 19 | I’m Learning to
Chapter 20 | A Breath of Fresh Air
Chapter 21 | Only Knowing Half
Chapter 22 | Where Friendship Blooms
Chapter 23 | Lord Kwan VI
Chapter 24 | Forthcoming
Chapter 25 | First Kiss, Second Prayer
Chapter 26 | The Way Things are Done
Chapter 27 | A New Proposal
Chapter 28 | Lord Kwan VII
Chapter 29 | The Prince
Chapter 30 | The Bead
Chapter 31 | What Everyone Else Thinks
Chapter 32 | Broken Things
Chapter 33 | Swings & Saddles
Chapter 34 | Fever Touch
Chapter 35 | Lord Kwan VIII
Chapter 36 | Lord Kwan IX
Chapter 37 | Dog Days
Chapter 38 | Beautifully Tragic Life
Chapter 39 | Without Saying it
Chapter 40 | Lord Kwan X
Chapter 41 | Riddles
Chapter 42 | The Elk Lord
Chapter 43 | Marry for Love
Chapter 44 | By the Lake
Chapter 45 | Lord Kwan XI
Chapter 46 | Lord Kwan XII
Chapter 47 | Stolen
Chapter 48 | Atonement
Chapter 49 | Lord Kwan XIII
Chapter 50 | Soul
Chapter 51 | Servant Girl
Chapter 52 | Match Making
Chapter 53 | A Beautiful Dress
Chapter 54 | Tetsuden
Chapter 55 | Jilted Love
Chapter 56 | Lord Kwan XIV
Chapter 57 | Duel
Chapter 59 | Lord Kwan XV
Chapter 60 | A Secret Garden
Chapter 61 | Dancing
Chapter 62 | The Way Things are Done
Chapter 63 | Lord Kwan XVI
Chapter 64 | Know Your Place
Chapter 65 | Fox Spirits
Chapter 66 | The Bath
Chapter 67 | Confession
Chapter 68 | Lord Kwan XVII
Chapter 69 | Lord Kwan XVIII
Chapter 70 | I Did This
Chapter 71 | I Love You
Chapter 72 | Lord Kwan XIX
Chapter 73 | Refusal
Chapter 74 | Breaking Point
Chapter 75 | Well of Oaths
Chapter 76 | Reassurance
Chapter 77 | Lord Kwan XX
Chapter 78 | Lord Kwan XXI
Chapter 79 | Bitgaram
Chapter 80 | Jealousy
Chapter 81 | Secrecy
Chapter 82 | The Pagoda
Chapter 83 | Going Home
Chapter 84 | My Friend
Chapter 85 | Brothers
Chapter 86 | In the City
Chapter 87 | Lord Kwan XXII
Chapter 88 | Lord Kwan XXIII
Chapter 89 | Village Life Again
Chapter 90 | Lord Kwan XXIV
Chapter 91 | Family Life
Chapter 92 | Lord Kwan XXV
Chapter 93 | New Arrivals
Chapter 94 | Lord Kwan XXVI
Chapter 95 | Betrayal
Chapter 96 | Lord Kwan XXVII
Chapter 97 | No More Tears
Chapter 1
One Summer’s Day
Summer, and the rainfall passed through gently this year. It seemed like, ever since my mother passed away, our village had been subjected to misfortune. She’d died the year of a drought, when harvests were poor and taxes high, and no amount of bucketing water from the river could compensate. The fish must’ve known, because there were so few that year as well. We managed to mend the fields in the following year, and the tea trees stubbornly held to hope and refused to die just like we did.
Two years after, the monsoons made up for their missed time, and were merciless. The river swelled so high, more than half the fishing boats were stolen by the rushing water, and anything that was normally a safe distance was swept away with them. That included poor Renzo’s hut. Thankfully, everyone in that family was wise enough to seek higher ground, and asked for shelter. The fields were another matter. Everything flooded so badly or got washed away. Worst were the landslides that buried so much.
A terrible earthquake took away any comfort we had in the following year. Any part of the tea field, unlucky enough to be in the softest soil, was swallowed up. Other houses suffered, and only by the grace of heaven did none of them collapse.
After that, hardly anyone had time to do anything else but pick up the pieces and try to make do. Instead of getting rid of us, the droughts and floods and earthquakes brought us closer together. We all worked to help fix houses and unbury the fields. We shared our tools and clothes, patiently waiting for the merchants to pass through and try to replace anything that was lost. Though, sometimes, it was too costly, and we’d have to wait for the following year.
It wasn’t a miserable life. My mother would take my twin brother and I out into the forests, showing us how to find fruit trees and animal tracks. I learned where all the peach and plum and tangerine trees were; but my favorites were the round pears and the apricot trees. I also learned to be mindful of the ground as well, and to respect distance between myself and snakes going about their business.
When we were small, mother would draw the butterflies while the two of us stuffed our faces with tasty fruits and berries. Two of a kind, she’d say. We were like the hare, so similar that it was hard to tell us apart, especially as newborns. So, she gave us the same names. Hisa and Hisato. And we never resented it. Our older brothers were always too busy for us in the beginning, working to appear grown up. We’d always rush to share our delicious finds when we saw them coming home, and they would shower us with praise.
It was never an easy life, but it was also not an unhappy one. Not all the time at least.
When our mother died of fever, I clung to the rabbit doll she’d sewn for me, and Hisato to his. They were soft, made from the most expensive material we could afford at the time—when times were good and plenty. At nine years old, I was suddenly the woman of our home, with three brothers and a father to look after.
I cooked what I knew how to make, which wasn’t very much, and did all the cleaning. My father took care of any repairs around the house, and helped me to tend to the ducks and the garden. When there was nothing to be done at the house, he’d set to fishing. Hisato and our second eldest brother, Raeden, would go out hunting every day. They’d learned how to cure the hides so they could be sold or made into something from a more experienced member of the village; in exchange, they always shared some of the meat from whatever they caught on Mount Tora. Only our eldest brother, Kenta, worked in the fields.
On my twelfth year, a pox ravaged the village. I tried to look after my family, but I didn’t know what to do and was ill with it myself. I prayed and prayed, often crying myself to sleep in frustration. My prayers were answered though. In my dreams, I saw one of the Juneun, a heavenly spirit, heal us with hands that were cool and soothing. Though, we were speckled with teeny scars all over our bodies. They were easily overlooked, however, and I thought nothing of it for a long time.
I was simply thankful that I wouldn’t have to mourn my father or one of my brothers, and said so in every prayer thereafter. If I had an extra coin, I made sure to give it to the shrine just before the red gate further up the mountain.
My brothers would try to save up all year, and would surprise me with a gift when they could afford it. I loved trying to draw like our mother did; and she would give me praise for my attempt, even though they weren’t very good at all. After she passed, it was my favorite way to spend any free time. Drawing reminded me of her, and felt special, so I kept practicing. And my brothers would surprise me with canvas and paint and brushes. The brushes were often old, and the canvas would have a hole or scuffs, but I loved them all the same. On a very good year, after selling the pelts, they afforded a brand-new brush and canvas; but couldn’t afford paints after it. I smiled so wide that day, admiring the taught perfection of one and the soft, splendid bristles of the other.
Before my fifteenth year, I used to help the other young girls in the tea fields every spring. A good harvest often paid the taxes and made for fine offerings to the spirits of the mountain. We’d ask for their protection, and to bless our homes in dire times. When we tried to recover some of the swallowed-up trees from a massive mud slide the previous rain, a wicked branch swatted my face and left a large, ugly scar. I was fourteen. That same spring, Hisato climbed higher on the mountain to ask for medicines. My wound was so bad that it’d made me sick. He found a medicine woman, and hastily come down the mountain, spraining his ankle in the process. Father tended to us the best he
When I was well again, I tried to continue on. A year later, as the youngest girl in the village that reached her womanhood, I took the children into the woods—the same as my mother had done—to teach all that I knew. One day, after it’d rained, one of the children slipped. I hurried to catch them, losing my own balance in the process and hit my head against a boulder. This time, the wound didn’t get infected and make me sick, but left an unshapely scar over my eyebrow opposite my scarred cheek.
I knew I would never be beautiful. I was barely fifteen, and would always be ugly from there on. There was a hope in me that, if I was clever enough, perhaps I could hide those ugly things behind my hair. That hope was stolen midspring with an outbreak of lice, and we all had to shave our heads. I allowed Kenta to take off my long hair, crying as he did. It was that or risk falling ill and spreading them again to my brothers.
So, I spent my days weaving together straw sandals for us all, and extras to trade for winter shoes since I didn’t know how to make those. Kenta brought in more rice hay, and I stayed vigilant in my work, stopping only when our father returned home with freshly caught perch and a fat eel. I revived the cooking fire and measured out the rice. A part of me greedily hoped that Raeden and Hisato would be home soon with apricots or wild radish and onion. They’d brought home ginger a few days before, and I’d added small amounts to flavor up our food.
Summer was going by so quickly, already half gone, and I started to think about the upcoming autumn. Perhaps this year, I should save every piece of bronze coin rather than give it in prayer, or become fiercer in my bartering, so I could get another ceramic pot for pickling. The winter had cracked the smallest one. I’d overstuffed it and wasn’t careful in storing it from the biting cold. I decided then to dry out or pickle half of whatever my brothers brought home to better last us through the next winter. We had a little left over in the spring, but we’d acted very carefully.
Renzo’s wife pickled quite a lot of cabbage every year. Perhaps she’d trade a bit of it for sandals for each of their children, or tightly woven mats and blankets. A house of nine probably wore through them quickly. I’d go there myself as long as Kyu wasn’t there.
As children, I would daydream about becoming his wife. He was a tall boy, and brave. On especially hot days, when we took a break from working outside, he’d show off, jumping from the highest rocks into the river. I would share the wild strawberries I’d found, and watch how happy it made him. But I knew better than to hope for that. Without all my scars, I still wasn’t very shapely—I was small in every way. It was no secret these days that most of the boys looked at Fumei; she was beautiful and kind and never complained about the hard work in the tea fields. We’d even become close friends.
I wanted to be angry, knowing that the boy I liked probably only had eyes for Fumei. But I couldn’t find it in myself to be hateful as much as I was envious. She was three years older than myself, and almost of marrying age. Of course every young man would have their eye on her. The best I could do was hope, and sometimes my jealousy drove me to pray, that some rich man would get lost on his way to his new fancy manor and happen by. He’d see Fumei and whisk her away to a life of luxury that befitted her beauty. Even if that did happen, there were other girls who would make for a lovelier wife.
I couldn’t be angry at my friend. Only myself for how clumsy and careless I’d let myself be. Even so, I was afraid to run into Kyu. Afraid of what he’d think of me with my hair barely starting to grow back, and no way to hide the scars on my face or hands. I’d crudely sewn an addition to my pants to better cover my legs, but half my shin was still showing. No, he’d think too much that I look like a boy. And my heart wouldn’t be able to handle that, even if he didn’t say a word.
A gentle rain began as I cooked and planned out my days, fast becoming a heavy deluge. Thunder clapped in the distance and rumbled overhead. There was no flash of lightning, which I felt grateful for. Not because I was afraid of it, I wasn’t. I was more afraid if a cruel bolt struck our house, or any of the other houses in the village. Our rooves were reeds, tightly tied together, and thick layered, and I worried they might still catch fire despite all the rain.
I’d been so distracted with all these things, that I hadn’t noticed Raeden and Hisato weren’t home yet. Not until I began to set the table and get our bowls ready.
“I should go and look for them,” argued Kenta. “I’m younger. If they’re hurt, I can carry them home one at a time.”
“And if you get hurt doing that?” countered father. “We need one strong man, at least. I will go.”
“Baba, you’re too old,” said Kenta. “I’ll be careful. I won’t take any unneeded risks. And I’m less likely to catch a cold in the rain.”
“Couldn’t we ask anyone in the village to help search for them?” I asked.
Kenta and father both hesitated.
“I don’t want a big fuss,” said Kenta. “And I don’t want to risk others getting hurt or sick.” He placed a hand on father’s shoulder, standing proud and seeming like the most respectable of men in the village. “I’ll take the straw cloak. And I’ll bring a bit of supplies, just in case. But I promise I will be home before sunrise, with both of them.”
I never understood how Kenta could make such impossible promises. But every time he did, he always came through. I didn’t have any reason to doubt him, and ate up my supper beside father. But as the hours went by, my stomach tightened.
To keep from pacing around, we busied ourselves with some menial task, waiting. I found myself stopping often as I wove more sandals, and looked at the door a long while. For the first time, doubts crept into my mind. What if they’d all fallen somewhere? Or bitten by some creature, or became prey to a leopard? There were stories like that. Of vengeful beasts that turned men into meat.
I told myself that if they didn’t walk through that door the next time I looked up, then I’d go to every house in the village and beg for help. And I didn’t care if Kyu saw me then. Not if it meant getting my brothers back.
I set aside another sandal, and made to start weaving together its twin. Father put another log into the cooking pit, our source of light and warmth in the room. Thunder rolled overhead, and I couldn’t help wonder if some wicked Kurai spirit was responsible and now laughing.
The door flung open. Kenta walked in with Raeden partially sheltered under the straw cloak. Both were soaked to the bone. Relieved, I hurried to fetch dry clothes for them, and stopped when I didn’t see Hisato.
“Where is—?” I began to ask. My heart dropped, seeing the sorry looks on each of them.
“He’s been arrested,” said Kenta.
“What?” I gasped. So did father. Both of us fumbling with a flood of questions.
“He shot down a deer on the spirits’ grounds,” said Raeden. “A sacred deer. It was a mistake, he didn’t know, but they...”
Kenta shed off the straw cover, hanging it to drip dry near the entrance of our home. “I’ll ask to borrow Lan’s horse at dawn. Hopefully I can make it up the mountain and try to fix things.”
“The horse is old,” said father, a weep in his voice.
Kenta shook his head slowly. “It’s the best we have to get there quickly. They won’t answer this late into the night.” He looked at father with sorrow, having broken his promise.
I felt my eyes swell with tears. I didn’t know what to do, but morning felt too far away. Though, what else was there?
Chapter 2
In the Rain
We all tried to get some rest. I lay in my bed, holding that stuffed rabbit close to me as I tossed and turned. Heavy raindrops sounded more like applause for our misfortune. And it didn’t get better when everything went still and quiet. I couldn’t fall asleep.
I thought about all the stories. The ones the merchants told when they passed through. That people who committed terrible crimes against their lords or the divine spirits were executed as the sun emerged in the morning. Would that be my brother’s fate? Even though it was an accident?
Hisato and I were two of a kind, and I couldn’t imagine a world without him. He’d been by my side before we were even born. It was always the two of us, grown up or not.
My stomach soured, forcing me up.
I clung to that toy, remembering how Hisato traded his for a stack of paper and fine charcoal for me. I’d been the selfish one, unable to let go of one of the last things I had of our mother. I parted first with the only fine dress our mother owned—the one she took out on special days. That dress gained us ample supplies, and bought me time to adjust to my new role as the woman of the house.
