Thirteen Orphans (21 page)
The five of them settled around the dining-room table, cleared now but for a pot of tea, a thermos carafe of coffee, and a cut-crystal pitcher of iced water.
“So,” Pearl said. “Where shall we begin?”
Riprap was quick to respond, quicker than Pearl had expected, having grown accustomed to the Dog’s place as faithful follower. Dogs were scouts, too, she reminded herself, their sharp senses compensating for their more impaired human associates. And Riprap was not the Dogs she had known. He was a coach, a former soldier, and a former baseball player—in short, a pack leader, not a follower.
“I want to know what’s behind all of this,” he said. “From the start there has been a larger history lurking in the background. Both you and Des have implied that the Thirteen Orphans came from China, perhaps from some outlying semi-independent kingdom, but that doesn’t feel right.”
Pearl glanced around the table. Des cocked an eyebrow at her. He’d already told her that he didn’t think they could hold back the information for much longer. Nissa looked inquisitive, Brenda almost defiant. Des was right. They couldn’t wait much longer, no matter how unlikely the explanation was that they had to give.
“Where to start?” Pearl said. She saw Riprap frown. “Put your hackles down, young man. I am going to explain. However, this is not an easy thing to explain, especially when the question of where to begin is factored in.”
“How about geographic location?” Riprap said simply. “Longitude and latitude. Borders. Whatever.”
Des answered, “East of the sun and west of the moon. The center of the universe. The heart of a word.”
Riprap pulled his head back slightly, his expression guarded, but maybe because Des had been functioning as a teacher—a coach—he reacted as if he had been handed a puzzle, not insulted.
“I don’t get what you’re saying, man.”
“Where our ancestors, the Thirteen Orphans, came from is not a place we can show you on any map,” Des said.
Brenda said softly, “That’s what Pearl told me, when she and Dad were trying to tell me about why the mah-jong tiles can be used for magic: ‘A land not found on any map.’ I thought they meant that it hadn’t been located by modern explorers, or that it wasn’t recognized by modern governments. I mean, China’s always not recognizing places. They don’t recognize Taiwan and Tibet, or do they now?”
Nissa broke in. Her expression had grown very still and very quiet, just as it did when Lani was being particularly trying. It was the expression of someone trying to keep control, no matter how challenged.
“That’s not the point, Brenda. I mean, Taiwan and Tibet aren’t the point. I know that phrase ‘east of the sun, west of the moon.’ It’s from fairy tales. It means a place that doesn’t exist—or at least not in the way we think of places existing. It’s the type of place a hero finds when on a quest for three eggs the same size that can still fit inside each other. It’s where a girl weaves a cloak from moonbeams and fog to protect her lover from a manticore.”
Nissa had spoken quickly, all on an exhalation. Now she paused, looking back and forth between Pearl and Des.
“So what you’re trying to tell us is that our ancestors came out of a fairy tale. Is that it?”
“I wish is was that nice,” Pearl said.
“Fairy tales,” Nissa said, “aren’t nice. Not the old ones. They’re ugly, full of rape and abuse. In the old Sleeping Beauty, she isn’t awakened by a kiss. She wakes up because she’s having a baby. The prince had sex with her while she was asleep and then left. The wolf doesn’t just swallow Little Red Riding Hood’s grandma whole and then play head games with the girl. He does something much nastier. Even the cleaned-up stories aren’t very nice.”
Brenda and Riprap were staring at Nissa in disbelief. Apparently, this was all news to them, but Pearl knew the old stories, as did Des. It was true. Sometimes the only thing that made a fairy tale bearable was knowing it would come out all right in the end. And sometimes what the old storytellers defined as “all right” still wasn’t very much of a victory by modern standards.
Riprap said, “Not on any map, but not a fairy tale, either. What are we talking about, an alternate dimension or something? Some alternate version of reality as we know it? Those come up all the time on television, especially when the budget is too tight for really great sets. Why not in reality?”
Pearl waggled an admonishing finger at him. “Now you’re just being flip. No. Our ancestors were not exiled from an alternate dimension, not in the sense you mean—not one of those stories where Fidel Castro decided to play baseball not politics or where Alexander Hamilton survived being shot by Aaron Burr … Is Burr the right name? I always get that one confused. The land from which our ancestors were exiled, does, however, have a close tie to our world, most specifically to China, because certain events in China gave birth to this other land.”
“The Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice,” Brenda said softly.
“That’s what it is called,” Pearl agreed. “Pour me some tea, and I will tell you from what that smoke rose, and who was sacrificed.”
Brenda poured pale green tea into Auntie Pearl’s cup, her heart pounding unnaturally fast, as if some part of her, dormant until now, dormant even while Des taught her and Riprap how to make magical spells, was coming to life.
This is what Dad wanted me to learn when he took me to meet Albert Yu. In a moment I’ll know what both of them have forgotten. That’s too weird. It’s like somehow now I’m more Dad than he is.
Pearl sipped her tea, and then spoke in a soft yet compelling voice. “Now, I’m sure all of you know that China has the longest continuous civilization of any now on Earth. Most estimates settle on five thousand years—three thousand if one only counts written history. During that time, China was not always united under one ruler, but there were peoples within what we shall consider China’s borders who shared a great deal in common, including language, religion, philosophy, as well as artistic and cultural values.
“Thus, although China was not a unified nation in the political sense, it was, in many ways, already a nation before the Ch’in Dynasty came into power and made it unified in fact. The time that concerns us is the beginning of the Ch’in Dynasty, specifically the year 213 BC.”
“Ah, relatively recent history,” Riprap muttered.
Pearl raised her elegant eyebrows, but otherwise did not respond.
“Now, the period directly before this was known as the time of the Warring States. As the name implies, this was a time of great disorder, with various nations competing for primacy. In the end, Ch’in won.
“Times like that of the Warring States are not pleasant for anyone, soldier or civilian, noble or commoner. Therefore, it is not too surprising that when, about eight years after the Ch’in emperor had taken power and his rule began to suffer unrest, one of his advisors made a radical suggestion.
“The advisor was named Li Szu. What he suggested was no less than cultural genocide. The letter he wrote his emperor—of which the text (although not the actual document) still exists today—pointed out that the emperor’s problems would be solved if all history, philosophy, theology, and the like were destroyed.
“In a twisted way, Li Szu’s reasoning was very sound. The Ch’in government had established an entirely new world order. For the first time ever, all the Middle Kingdom was united under one ruler—and under one set of rules. Scholars alone, with their annoying habit of consulting the past for precedents, were the ones who complained. For example, the Ch’in government would pass a law or edict, and the scholars would immediately start harping on all the reasons the law or edict was unwise or unjust.
“When speaking in court the scholars were prudent and polite, but away from court, they had an annoying habit of engaging in public debate. They couldn’t even agree with each other as to what the correct course of action would be, except that the emperor’s course was wrong.
“According to Li Szu, the only thing scholars were good for was creating unrest. Get rid of the scholarly works, and you get rid of what the scholars used to prove how much better some past ruler or law was.
“A few things could be preserved. The history of Ch’in could be preserved, because Ch’in’s ways were now to be the ways of all the Middle Kingdom. Technical manuals and handbooks of medicine, divination, agriculture, and arboriculture could be kept, because those were simple and useful, but all the rest should go.
“If the scholars protested, well, that would be unwise and they would be warned. If they persisted in their unwise acts, then they would be executed. Those officials who aided or abetted renegade scholars would be enslaved and sent to work on the Great Wall. When the scholars and the contesting works were eliminated, one way of thought would dominate. Then peace and unity would be preserved and all China would live in contentment.”
Nissa leaned forward, her elbows on the table, reminding Brenda of a larger version of Lani.
“And I’m sure the emperor agreed that this policy should be promoted, didn’t he? He would have thought that was a great idea.”
“The emperor agreed,” Pearl replied. “Li Szu’s edict was duly published, and the scholars were given thirty days to burn their books.”
“But I bet,” Riprap said, “that there were some scholars who refused, weren’t there?”
“There were many,” Pearl said. “Four hundred and sixty scholars are on record as having concealed their books. They were executed as a result.”
“Four hundred and sixty?” Brenda said softly. “That many?”
“That many and more,” Des replied. “History records the scholars, but there were many family members and retainers who died as well, rather than betray the principles of their head of household. These scholars died, but some did not. They succeeded in concealing their texts. Later they reproduced and recirculated them. Many of the scholars who managed to succeed in saving some of their documents were Confucian. This means that a majority of what survived were Confucian texts, which is why that philosophical point of view remained dominant in China right up to …”
Pearl interrupted. “Des, please. What happened in China after Li Szu’s edict is fascinating, I agree, but we’re telling them about what else happened because of this edict.”
“Sorry,” Des said, and looked as if he meant it. “I get carried away.”
“Four hundred and sixty,” Brenda repeated, imagining four hundred and sixty men who looked like Des. “And those were the ones who tried to conceal their books. Hundreds, probably even thousands of libraries would have been destroyed. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of scholars committed intellectual suicide.”
“That’s right,” Pearl said. “As you have learned, the written word held—still holds—a very special place in Chinese lore. The written word itself is special, sacred, even magical.”
“The written word,” Nissa said, “not just what is written, like the Bible or the Koran or some other holy text. The word itself. All those words burned.”
“And all those people who were masters of writing,” Riprap added. “All those scholars executed.”
“The Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice,” Brenda said, and felt her voice rising with excitement. “That’s what you’ve been talking about. Are you saying that our ancestors came from a land that was somehow created when those books were burned and those scholars murdered?”
“That is what I am saying,” Pearl agreed. “That land is where my father was born. From what he told me and my brothers, it was a very strange place. Unlike histories in this world, where one event evolves from another, where events follow a somewhat logical progression, in the Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice, things are jumbled together. Mythological creatures are as real as dogs and cats. Magic is as viable a science as any technique evolved from the scientific method. Remember, a few types of books were spared from destruction, and these were all the more practical texts.”
“Agriculture,” Riprap recited, “arboriculture, medicine, and something else …”
“Divination,” Nissa added. “Which seems impractical to me, but I guess they considered divination a science. And the histories of Ch’in were spared, too, so I guess Ch’in isn’t present there.”
“I am not sure what is or isn’t there,” Pearl said. “My father hinted that once smoke and sacrifice created the land, then a conduit existed. I don’t think every book ever burned ends up there, but he gave me the impression that it was no more a closed system than our own Earth is. Just as falling meteors add material to our planet, so the occasional burning of treasured words brings more material to the Lands.
“I wish I knew more, but I fear I was not always the best student. Once I realized all my lessons were—from my father’s point of view—meant only to make me a fitter conduit through which the Tiger’s abilities could be passed to some future male, I fear I grew less than attentive.”
Brenda felt uncomfortable whenever Auntie Pearl talked about her father. It brought home how great her own dad had been, that he had been happy to have his daughter as his heir, even though he had two sons. But she had to face Pearl’s reaction. That anger was a real part of Pearl Bright. Brenda bet old anger had a lot to do with how Pearl treated Foster: Foster, whom Pearl had known was a Tiger because he looked like her father.
Pearl smiled, perhaps aware how her anger made the others uneasy, and tried to be reassuring. She tapped her chin lightly with two elegantly manicured fingers.
“I am surprised,” Pearl said, “how calmly all three of you are taking this. I have participated in the initiations of several heir apparents, and I can assure you, your reaction is hardly typical.”
Brenda knew her own smile was tight and humorless. “Remember me, oh, two weeks ago, Auntie Pearl? Back in those dark ages when we were in Albert Yu’s office, looking at a messed-up mah-jong set you said he’d been using to tell fortunes? A lot has happened since then. I watched my dad have part of his memory stolen away. I’ve learned to make a few simple amulets. Des has shown us some interesting effects he can pull off, and no matter how hard I try to come up with other explanations for magic, I can’t. I’ve just about used up my ability to disbelieve.”
Riprap fingered the bulky bracelet containing the Dragon’s Tail spell he wore around one broad, dark-brown wrist. “Like Brenda says, Pearl. We’ve seen a lot. What you’ve told us isn’t a whole lot harder to believe than that if I invoke the spell in these tiles a dragon is going to wrap its tail around me.”
Nissa nodded. “I haven’t seen as much as these two. In fact, I think I’ve got some classes to catch up on, but I saw Foster come at you, and I saw what happened when you threw that Tiger paper at him. It’s easier to believe than disbelieve. I think I was already partway there, although I’ll admit, I figured we were talking about some outlying province in China, not Somewhere Else entirely.”
Des nodded his approval. “I came out of a tradition that made a lot of this history easier to accept—and a whole lot harder, too. I asked my father if a new land got born every time a book was burned in China and got whacked. It doesn’t, of course. What happened during Li Szu’s purge was the combined effect of an attempt to wipe out almost all conflicting knowledge, whether it was contained in written form or in teachers. Even those scholars who obeyed the edict and let their books be burned were denied permission to teach.
“There was a small handful of scholars, those who had achieved the rank of Scholar of Great Learning, who were permitted to keep otherwise forbidden books, but you can bet that after watching their friends and associates be executed they were very careful about what they said.
“According to later histories, one of the elements that led to the downfall of the Ch’in Dynasty was that no one felt safe any longer. Demotions became common, not just in scholarly rankings, but in administration and the military. No one was immune to execution, even on trumped-up charges. So, in a strange way, Li Szu’s edict, which was meant to make Ch’in safe forever, was the beginning of the end of that dynasty’s prestige.”
“But it was the beginning of a new world,” Pearl said. “A strange world, a world without order as we know it, but a world that my father and the other Orphans treasured so greatly that they went into exile rather than see their battles contribute to its destruction. When I was a little girl, I would listen to the survivors reminisce. Even though I cannot remember details, those tales color my dreams. I think that land must have been a beautiful place, although far from a safe one.”
“Must
be,
” Des said with emphasis on the second word. “Must be, not ‘have been.’ Pearl, where else can our attacker have come from? I have had time to talk with Foster, and he speaks what I was taught is the peculiar dialect of that place.”
be,
” Des said with emphasis on the second word. “Must be, not ‘have been.’ Pearl, where else can our attacker have come from? I have had time to talk with Foster, and he speaks what I was taught is the peculiar dialect of that place.”
“Dialect?” Riprap said. “You mean like accent?”
“Not only accent,” Des said. “Word use. My father told me that in the Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice they spoke Chinese, but a very strange Chinese. Words from different time periods are mixed up—even from different versions of Chinese.”
Brenda said, “I know that there’s more than just Mandarin Chinese. There’s Cantonese and other versions, too, right?”
“Right,” Des said. “Mandarin—or northern Chinese—was the language of scholars, but that doesn’t mean it was the only one spoken by scholars or in which texts were written. The dialect of Foster’s homeland is primary Mandarin, but with other words mixed in. What’s really strange is the mixture of expressions from various time periods and classes.”
Des paused, obviously hunting around for a comparison.
“Imagine if you were listening to the evening news, and all of a sudden the reporter started mixing in phrases right out of Shakespeare and Milton and a bit of street slang. That’s Foster, but it’s clear he’s not speaking an affected pattern. He’s just talking normally. He thinks Mandarin is odd. Limited. A bit lacking in nuance and color.”
Brenda had a thought. “What does my dad talk when he talks Chinese? Mandarin or what Foster talks?”
Pearl said, “I initially taught him Mandarin, but he learned some of the other form later. That’s what he used when he called me on the phone. Even if someone had tapped the call, they would have needed to be a linguistic historian to understand him.”
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