By David W. Landrum
“I came here when I was your age,” Jing Lin told Soong, “and for the same reason.”
Their horses ambled up a rough, rocky pathway. Soong’s body ached. She had not ridden horses much, and her muscles had not adjusted to the stress riding created. Finally, after another twenty minutes or so, the path leveled out. She found it easier to move across level ground.
They continued on, the air clear and cool and the sunlight bright. Wide meadows gleaming with flowers stretched around them. In the distance, she saw cattle grazing. Hardly flapping their wings, hawks flew, riding currents of wind in the blue sky. Soon, she would be learning to hunt with a hawk.
“Beautiful creatures, aren’t they?” Jing Lin commented.
“They are, my Lady.”
“They are even more beautiful up close; but also more frightening. You’ll learn a great deal here, Soong, just as I did.”
Soong did not reply. Jing Lin had trained her for the past two years. For the first time, she would be alone without the princess to assist her, and doing something completely new and foreign. It made her uneasy that the princess kept assuring her that she would learn a lot.
They rode another mile or so and a cluster of houses appeared. She saw a larger group of dwellings—perhaps a small village—beyond the ones they were approaching. Up ahead, people had come to greet them and Soong rejoiced at the thought of dismounting.
As they got closer, Soong saw the woman she assumed must be Nazanin.
She had never seen Persians. As they drew near, she noted their different appearance and dress. Nazanin stood tall—tall as a man—and looked strong and muscular, particularly her arms. Soong noted her dark brown skin, dark eyes, and long, lustrous black hair. She wore a red tunic over a pair of baggy pantaloons with boots. She guessed the woman’s age at forty or so; she looked younger than Soong had imagined.
Jing dismounted gracefully, Soong less so. Her rump, back, and shoulders ached. As the servants took the horses, the woman approached them, knelt, and prostrated herself.
Soong knew the princess did not like such shows of abjection and often told courtiers and other visitors who came to her with petitions to “get up and stop groveling.” She said nothing like this to the woman.
“Arise, my friend,” Jing said. The woman stood and Jing put out her arms. They embraced and kissed.
“Joy and prosperity be upon you, my Lady,” she said.
“And to you, my friend. Be pleased to greet the woman you are to teach, Soong Yuan.”
The woman bowed to Soong, who returned the gesture. Never certain about protocols, she imitated Jing Lin and hoped for the best. The Persian woman seemed pleased at what she had done.
“Soong Yuan, I am Nazanin.”
“I am honored to meet you, Mistress. Princess Jing Lin speaks highly of you.”
Soong was relieved when the formalities ended. Their entourage headed for Nazanin’s house. Servants scurried about them, ready to do the bidding of their mistress. It felt good to walk; the pain in her body ebbed. Soong reviewed the information Jing Lin had given her. Nazanin came as a refugee to Xingnoa years ago. Her family had been involved in a plot to overthrow the King of Persia. Nazanin had not participated in the plot, but the rulers of the land had determined to exterminate her entire clan. Most of her relatives had been killed. She, two cousins and a few servants, escaped to Afghanistan and when the Persian rulers tracked them there, travelled to China. However, the Chinese government would not receive them because they wanted to continue their trade on the Silk Road and not antagonize their chief partners in that endeavor, the Persians; but officials suggested she petition to settle in Xingnoa. Jing’s father received her into the kingdom. She bought land, married a Xingnoan noble, and settled in a remote corner of Jing’s realm, near the Russian border. Her husband had died two years ago, Jing had said, and has four grown children.
Once inside the house, the servants led them to bath chambers. The hot water felt luxurious to Soong.
During the noon meal, Soong and Jing met Nazanin’s youngest child, the only one who lived with her at home. She introduced him as Yi Min, though she called him Kasara (Soong assumed this was his Persian name) when she spoke to him. Tall, slender, but giving the appearance of strength and agility, he bowed to Jing. Soong noted how handsome he was. Chinese blood had overcome Persian in this young man. He looked Chinese, his eyes folded, skin gold and not brown, the shape of his face and his features suggesting he was native to the Divine Land. Yet there was something very un-Chinese in the way he moved and spoke. She marveled at his grace and energy.
“So you will be our guest,” he said to her after they were introduced.
“Yes, sir, I believe I will.”
“Enough of ‘sir.’ Yi Min is fine, though I mostly go by my Persian name, Kasara. It’s a good conversation starter, anyway.”
Soong did not know what to say.
“I like the sound of your name,” Jing said. “Congratulations on your success against the Luopa bandits who were causing trouble.”
“It was a tough campaign. I thought we would either kill all of them or they would kill all of us. Then they negotiated a treaty. So far, they’ve kept their part of the bargain. They even pay us a little tribute—which is technically yours, Your Highness. Later, I will give you what they have paid so far.”
“Nonsense, Keep it. I like having them on the border and at least showing minimal loyalty to us. They can spot and report any sneaking around by the Chinese government.”
The food they had eaten made Soong sleepy. Jing noticed and excused her so she could go to bed.
***
When she woke in the morning, she felt refreshed, her aches from riding gone, her energy and clear-headedness renewed. The mountain air, she thought, must be doing her some good.
She went outside and stretched to loosen up and to bring her to full awareness. She stopped when she saw Jing Lin. The princess was barefoot and wore her plain black smock and pants with her hair braided. The two of them did Tai Chi for an hour before they went to breakfast.
As they went inside the house, Jing said, “You need to be careful of Kasara. He’s a bit of a rake.”
Soong looked at her. She did not understand the term the princess had used.
“‘Rake’ means womanizer—seducer. He is handsome, young, and intelligent. He uses his … resources, shall we say, to charm women.”
“I have no desire to be charmed, my Lady.”
“Just a warning. I think his mother will rein him in.”
Soong nodded.
After breakfast, they received a lesson in falconry.
They went to a shelter where six birds sat on perches, tethered to a rope tied to each one’s leg.
Soong hoped no one noticed her alarm; she had never seen predatory birds up close. To her, as to most people, they were small black shapes flying high in the sky. They were a menace at her family’s farm when she was growing up. Now and then, one would swoop down and seize a chicken from the barnyard, but even then they moved with too much speed to be seen in detail. Before her, they presented a large, formidable body, a beak that looked as if it could easily sever one’s fingers, and dangerously sharp talons. Their black and yellow eyes leered at her and their easy motions frightened her. What if one flew at her and clawed her eyes or face? Soong summoned her courage.
“Ah,” Jing said. “Moonlight—my baby.”
The bird she stood in front of raised it wings just slightly, stirred, and ruffled its feathers.
“Let me get you a glove. Nazanin said. After a moment, she returned with a tough leather glove—a gauntlet that covered her hand and wrist. By now, the huge bird showed considerable agitation. Soong wondered if it would attack, but after Jing put the glove on and Nazanin undid the tether, she flew upward and settled on Jing’s gloved hand. The princess bent down and kissed the hawk’s head, which looked to Soong like a snake.
“Moonlight—my sweetie, my little girl,” Jing cooed, “I’ve missed you so much!”
The bird chirped happily. Soong thought the low purring sound that came from her throat was frightening.
The princess continued her ecstatic praise of the creature, as if it were a cat or a puppy.
“Shall we fly her?” Nazanin asked. “She’s done with her molting and I can tell she’s happy to see you. I think it’s time.”
They went outside. The hawk spread its wings, which made it look huge. Soong later learned it was a goshawk, the most unruly, unpredictable, and difficult to train of all the species. She would have to train a goshawk in her time at Nazanin’s home.
Out in a wide meadow, Jing removed the rope on the great bird’s foot, lifted her arm, and whistled. In an explosion of strength, the bird flew off, gliding a few feet above the grass and flowers, circling. She watched its graceful movement.
“She’s in yarak,” Nazanin said.
Jing caught Soong’s puzzlement at the word before Soong noticed Kasara had joined them. “Yarak is a Persian word,” she said. “It means, ‘strength,’ but as it is used in falconry, it’s a bit hard to define. It means the creature is the right weight and in good condition to hunt. It also refers to the moment when the instinct to kill possesses the bird. Soon, she will spot an animal. Watch as she goes fully into yarak.”
Soong followed Moonlight’s flight. It glided about and then seemed—though Soong would have thought this impossible—to hang motionless for just a moment in the air. Then, with a suddenness that startled Soong, it shot like an arrow in a straight trajectory, down into a shaggy tuft of grass.
Jing, Nazanin, and Kasara cheered wildly and leaped up and down in excitement. They ran to where the hawk had landed, Soong following. When they stopped, the bird stood over the body of a large hare it had killed.
Jing reached into a pouch she had slung over her shoulder when they left the aviary and took out a piece of raw flesh. She held it in her gloved hand. After a moment of what seemed like indecision, the hawk flew from the hare it had killed to Jing’s fist and began to devour the chine the princess held. One of the servants who always shadowed Nazanin and her son ran over and placed the hare in a cloth bag. Jing Lin spoke softly to the hawk as it ate. Nazanin and Kasara seemed intensely pleased at what had happened.
Their party spent the next two hours in the field. The hawk killed another hare and a pheasant.
“We’ll feast on these tonight,” Nazanin said. She turned to Soong. “You will be training a hawk to do this,” she said.
Soong hesitated but then said, “I don’t see how I could ever learn to do this, my Lady.”
Nazanin laughed. “Neither did your Sovereign over there, but she has become a first-rate falconer. You will learn as well.”
***
Soong slept much of the afternoon. She woke, blinking in the sunlight, feeling alarm, wondering if her nap might constitute an affront to her hostess. But when she saw the princess, Jingsmiled, kissed her, and asked if she felt refreshed after sleeping. Soong said she did.
“I know it was a hard ride for you,” the princess said, “but I wanted to arrive here in enough time to fly Moonlight.”
Soong nodded. The princess seemed to love the bird a great deal.
“It seems impossible to train a wild bird to do the things you have trained her.”
“It is an ancient sport. You’ll be engaging in a discipline that goes back thousands of years.”
***
They spent the rest of the day exercising. As she expected, Jing gave her a wooden staff and sent an invitation out to all challengers, male and female, who lived in the surrounding area. The men of the estate, and a few women, took up the challenge. Their techniques were different—at least the Persians were—but Soong made short work of them all (to the delight of the women, who didn’t mind being knocked down if they were able to see the local men receive a drubbing from a female pugilist).
“This is the woman who knocked me on my ass the first time we crossed staffs,” Jing said approvingly.
Kasara eventually stepped up, took hold of a staff, and faced off with Soong. His technique surprised her, but she had seen his feet and legs flex and knew what he planned to do. In second, he sprawled on the ground, half-dazed from the clout she had given him.
The women cheered and applauded.
He got to a sitting position, rubbing his head. Soong had hit him on the shoulder, but the blow had addled him.
“I didn’t see that one coming,” he said.
“That’s the idea, Kasara,” his mother replied. “Pay more attention the next time—and don’t think because you’re fighting a woman she will not be skillful.”
He laughed, got up, bowed to Soong, and walked (a bit unsteadily) over to the crowd of people watching. Jing applauded Soong. She bowed and gave her wooden stave to a servant.
For supper they ate the hare and pheasant Jing’s bird had killed. Soong listened to the conversation that went around the table, much of it centering on falconry. They spoke of austringers, crence, hack, imping, jesses, mews, varvel and used other terms taken from Persian, French, and English, that sounded odd in Chinese, and were difficult to pronounce; they debated the worth of certain types of bewit and the proper variety of bechin. Soong realized that she would have to learn all the terminology. The task before her seemed more and more impossible. She wondered if the princess would discontinue her training as a warrior if she failed to learn falconry.
Soong drank too much wine and ate too much. Soon she felt sluggish and sleepy. Excusing herself, she went outside. Nazanin said she would send a servant to escort her to her quarters.
Soong looked at the moon hovering over the mountains. It looked large. She could see Yue Lao, the Old Man Under the Moon, the god of marriage and love. Though the sight warmed her heart, it also brought up the bitterness in her soul. She did not believe in the gods or the God of whom the Christian missionaries spoke. She did not follow the Tao or the teachings of the Buddha. Soong could not understand how a deity of any kind could allow what had happened to her; and if the Buddha or Lao Tzu offered a path to enlightened behavior, why did no one seem to follow it?
She would never marry. When, as a poor girl, she had gone to work as a servant at the estate of a wealthy landowner, she had often been called upon to service the men, and some women, who came to his house as guests. She made extra money for her work as a house prostitute, money she was able to send back to her family. Jing had taken her away from all of that. Soong reflected that she might have taken her own life if the princess from the land of Xingnoa had not selected her to train as a warrior. Still, her experience at the estate had pushed her soul into a region of darkness. No moon or stars shone there, and no promise of dawn gave her hope.
As she contemplated this, she heard someone walking toward her; Kasara. She felt defensive, but then remembered the principle Jing had taught her. Never let fear take you. Always be detached, formless, and ready to act.
“A beautiful night,” he said.
“It is.”
“I often wonder if Yue Lao is plotting to fix me up with an ugly bride.”
She did not intend to answer, but the words emerged from her mouth before she could think to stop them.
“That isn’t likely. You’re a handsome man.”
“Well, thank you. That is a significant compliment from one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.”
“So, we have established that we are both attractive.”
“It seems we have.”
She continued to gaze at the moon, Kasara watching with her. A long time passed in silence.
“Congratulations on your decisive victory over me today. I’m still aching from it.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I deserved to be hurt. I wasn’t taking you seriously as an opponent. Mother was right about that— as she usually is.”
“Your mother is beautiful.”
“It was said she was the most beautiful woman in Persia.”
“I haven’t seen any other women of Persia, but they would have to be very attractive to outshine your mother.”
Soong could not understand why she was conversing so openly with him. She had determined to be quiet and not encourage conversations with Kasara. They stood together, silent before the beauty that they saw.
“Can I escort you back to the house?”
“Nazanin said she would send a servant to escort me.”
“I’ll go check on her, then. By your leave.”
Soong nodded and Kasara left. She relaxed, glad he had gone; yet, she had enjoyed speaking with him. Jing had correctly described him as a rake. He knew how to talk and how to charm. She resolved to be more careful and never to be alone with him again.
Then her ears picked up sounds foreign to the environment she had been in all day. Soong sharpened her senses, drawing her focus to a point. She heard the tread of men (Jing had taught her how to distinguish the sound of men walking) and the clink of armor. Before she could turn, they rushed at her.
They would cut her down if she fled. Shouting out an alarm would waste energy and dissolve her focus. She listened to the onrush of foes and prepared to do the unexpected. She charged at them.
They slowed, surprised she had attacked them rather than fleeing. In the bright light of the full moon, she saw five of them in Persian dress. They carried knives, which meant they were assassins. Soong knew the entire fight would hinge on what she did in that moment. She selected the smallest of them, who occupied the periphery of their formation, dove, rolled under him, knocking him off his feet before righting herself. She jumped, kicking so that her foot landed with the full velocity of her body on his throat.
The kick broke his neck. Before his hand dropped to the ground, she had snatched the weapon from his grip.
Soong rejoiced. He had been armed with a shamshir, a Syrian weapon popular with Persians. Though not a full-sized sword, it was longer than the knives the other assailants wielded.
Soong sprang to her feet and took a defensive posture. Soong still could not cry out. She had to keep her focus and not waste energy, but she also needed to make noise.
The man in the lead smirked, seeing they were up against a woman. He threw a knife at her.
He was good; Soong could see the trajectory of the weapon heading straight for her throat. Rather than ducking, she used the shamshir to knock the knife to the ground, picked it up, and threw it back at him, striking him in the center of his forehead.
He screamed. As he fell, she struck several blows against the scale armor he wore.
The other three hesitated, just as she had hoped. She ran at them as they came together in a defensive formation. Soong screamed and attacked, raining blows on their helmets and shoulders.
She swung her sword furiously, but with purpose, surprising them with her strength, agility, and speed. They could barely defend themselves. Soong assaulted them, making as much noise as she could. Her stratagem proved effective. Soon, she heard the noise of people running toward her. The light of torches profaned the white light of the moon. A group of armed servants—and Jing—charged to rescue her.
They encircled the assassins, who could see they had no chance and surrendered. Jing came over and took Soong’s hands.
“Are you hurt, child?”
“No, my Lady.”
She was trembling and felt faint and Jing put her arms around her. Soong gazed at the scene and saw the two men she had killed.
“You defended Nazanin admirably.”
Soong did not reply, weariness overwhelming her. Her body drooped as she tried to stop shaking.
“Let’s get you to the house,” Jing said.
By now villagers, armed with sword and clubs had joined Nazanin’s contingent. The three men they had captured looked at them apprehensively. Trained soldiers or even armed guards displayed steadiness, but the locals, who felt outrage at those who had invaded their land, could be volatile. Nazanin took charge as Jing led Soong back to the main house on the compound. Soong heard Nazanin giving orders for securing the intruders and soothing the anger of the villagers.
Jing had Soong drink, briefly examined her, and, assured that she had not been hurt, told her she needed to bathe.
“It will relax you.”
Soong undressed as Jing and two serving women prepared her bath. Working as if she were a servant, the princess poured hot water in the tub, put in aromatic powder, and told Soong to climb in.
She sank into the warm, scented bath. Growing up, she washed as best she could every morning and night, but her family had to be frugal with the water they had, so bathing was not something she had known as a child. When she went to work for Du Fu, she had bathed for the first time, after servicing one of his guests.
Jing began to run a soapy cloth over her shoulders.
“You fought well,” she said.
“Thank you, Princess.”
“I’m proud of you. And you saved Nazanin’s life. She has enemies. We were surprised they came this far, but your vigilance stopped them.”
Soong did not answer.“Princess, you should not be washing me,” she said after a while.
“Nonsense. You are my sister in battle. We care for each other. The rank we observe in the palace does not apply in the field.”
Soong let Jing wash her back, hair, and shoulders. She handed Soong a cloth so she could wash the front part of her body. The washing soothed her and Jing’s presence made her feel safe.
“Nazanin will give you a gift. You must accept it or it will be an affront to her.”
“I will accept it.”
“I am pleased with you. You’ve worked hard these last two years. Your hard work has brought you skill and mastery and you have used it for good.”
Soong did not reply. She felt immensely weary.
Nazanin appeared. Soong, who had grown up not in poverty, but in a family with little money, always felt a twinge of shame about her body. Jing told her she was delicate and beautiful. Soong thought her slender build, small breasts, and long legs might be the result of not eating well as a child and a young girl. Men seemed to think her attractive. They certainly had at Du Fu’s. And in her travels and training time with the princess, she had noticed what seemed to be admiration of her looks and physique from those who met her. This made her remember what the princess had told her about Kasara.
Jing and the two servant girls dried her. Jing told her Nazanin would drink wine with them.
“I want to step onto the balcony and let the wind cool me, so I don’t sweat after bathing,” Soong said.
She stepped out on to the low platform that gave a view of the mountains. Jing and Nazanin left and the servant girls stopped at the door. Soong told them to go and get her clothing ready. They bowed and left.
By now, clouds had risen and the moon turned them silver. She opened the robe she had put on, letting the wind blow on her naked flesh, and sighed with pleasure as it cooled her.
She detected something—not a noise, but heat or the air moving from the motion of someone walking. She opened her eyes and saw Kasara.
Instinct made her hands search for the sides of the robe to pull them together, but she stopped. He smiled. She stood a moment, knowing he could see her. She determined not to cover herself.
“I’m sorry, Soong. But I could not help looking. You are exquisitely lovely.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Those men intended to murder Mother and me. We owe you the greatest debt of gratitude one can owe.”
“To defend you was the proper action to take.”
“Yes.” He seemed abashed and behaved as if he did not know what to say. “Will you join us for wine?” he finally asked.
“After I dress.”
He opened his mouth, perhaps to make a remark, seemed to think better of it, bowed, and left.
The two servants helped her dress, tied up her hair, and escorted her to a small room where Nazanin, Jing, and Kasara awaited her. When Soong came through the door, they rose. Soong bowed. Nazanin approached her, took Soong’s hands and kissed her.
“We owe you our lives, Soong Yuan. You will live forever in our hearts and are forever my child and sister.”
“I consider this an honor, my Lady.”
“It is my honor. Please sit.”
Soong took her place at the table, next to Jing, across from Kasara. They drank in silencee.
“Do you know who those men were?” Jing asked after a while.
“They realized telling the truth is to their advantage. They’re Persians who traveled to Afghanistan with a group of merchants. From there, they found their way here.” She paused and added, “I am never out of danger.”
The princess, Soong noticed, had dressed up in a bright blue qipao decorated with golden eagles. The bright clothing made her look even more beautiful than she usually did.
The attempted assassination put a damper on their conversation. After a life-and-death situation, one could not easily exchange pleasantries. There was much grave talk about the politics of the event.
“I’ll send a letter to the Shah,” Jing said. “He wants Xingnoa as an ally against the Chinese. I’ll tell him in no uncertain terms that incidents like this one will erase the possibility of a treaty between our nations.”
“He will say they were rogue mercenaries, not agents of the Persian government.”
“He may say that, but he will know I don’t take kindly to such interference.”
The talk continued, subdued, but regular after a while. When the moon stood at midnight, everyone at the table retired.
“I think you need to sleep with me tonight, Soong,” Jing said. “Come to my bedchamber.”
Soong obeyed. She had not wanted to be alone tonight, and the princess had sensed as much. Nazanin had provided a large, plush bed for Jing—a bed such as Soong had never imagined could exist. They settled down. She and Jing often slept together for warmth when they went on campaigns however, Soong had never slept with the princess when they visited someone’s home or the palace. But tonight, she felt fear. She needed someone near her. She needed warmth and the assurance that someone who loved her and protect her was near.
Soong had never slept alone before she left the farm. She always slept with her younger sister, and together they kept the bed warm. At Du Fu’s she had slept with another servant girl when she was not in bed with one of Du’s guests. Only when she began training with the princess had she begun to sleep alone.
As she settled down, Jing already asleep, she thought of Kasara. She had been warned about him. Of course, Soong thought, as her mind drifted toward oblivion, she noted that if Kasara played the role of seducer she should not have stood in front of him half-naked.
Sleep took her and when she awoke, Jing had already gone.
***
After breakfast, Soong, Jing and Nazanin’s entourage went to the aviary. Nazanin told Soong she could select her hawk. Inside the building she found several birds, tethered, on perches. They were all goshawks.
“Mistress, I don’t know how to choose,” Soong said. “Can you give me any guidance?”
“I will give you this advice and none other,” Nazanin replied, smiling. “Training is a relationship. The princess told me you have trained with her for the past two years. You learn things—techniques, methodologies, skills— but it is also a relationship. It is mentoring, sharing your life with your teacher. So it is with the hawk. My advice—and this is not a jest—is to find a bird you can love and who you think might come to love you.”
Soong was glad Nazanin had qualified her statement. She would have indeed thought the statement a jest if Nazanin had not given a disclaimer with it.
How could she know if a hawk would love her?
She walked up and down the row of large, scary creatures. Their yellow eyes scanned her appraisingly. She thought she detected hostility in some of their gazes—but Soong could not be certain if she saw it or if she merely projected her own feelings on to the fowl. One of them seemed less aggressive and another looked ready to fly at her. She pondered, almost choosing the one she thought most passive, but then selected the one that looked ready to hook its talons into her throat.
“A good choice,” Nazanin said. “He’s a strong bird, and spirited.”
“Then he has all the more capacity to love,” Soong answered.
Nazanin seemed to like Soong’s reply. They would begin training the next day.
***
That night, Kasara came up to her as she returned from the huge garden the estate maintained.
“I see you were meditating. Are you planning to be a nun?” he asked.
“I am not. Anyway, I couldn’t even if wanted to. I’m not qualified.”
“From the time you were employed as a servant girl?”
“Yes. To be a nun, you must be a virgin.” She paused and added, “I don’t think much of religion and I rather despise meditation. The princess says it is good for a warrior. It develops one’s level of concentration. It appears she is right.”
“Jing Lin can sharpen her mind to the point that things around her move at a snail’s pace. She can catch arrows and see a lightning-fast stroke of a sword as if it were moving like the hand of a mechanical clock. She doesn’t use the skill a great deal because she says to do so would eventually damage her mind and result in either madness or lethargy.”
“So she had told me,” Soong replied.
“She is a remarkable woman. So are you.”
“Have you decided that since you saw my intimate parts?”
He was taken aback but recovered quickly.
“I was thinking more when you landed me on my rear; and of your amazing valor just before I had the joy of seeing you in all your glory.”
“You are an interesting man.”
“Thank you, Soong. May I call you that?”
“Of course you may. I have no title, so what else would you call me?”
“I could call you ‘young woman.’ I suppose there are other modes of address.”
“‘Soong’ is fine.”
He stopped. She did as well.
“Can we talk again, Soong? I find you fascinating—and beautiful.”
“I would sometimes hear Du Fu’s guests tell him how much fun it was to fuck that ‘skinny little peasant girl.’”
“You are slender and strong. I’m sorry anyone would say such things of you—let alone exploit you.”
“Don’t you want the same?”
“The same thing, perhaps; but also not the same thing. So I don’t seem like I’m airing a Zen paradox, I mean the thing itself is the same—the same act; but not in the same spirit; not as exploitation; not against your will.”
“That would be novel.”
He came close to her and gently put his hands on her shoulders. “All the more reason to consider it.” When she did not rebuff him for touching her, he leaned in and kissed her. When he drew away, she did not speak.
“That is the sort of kiss a woman like you should be given.”
She said, after she had contemplated a long moment, “The men who had me never bothered to kiss me.”
The two of them went back to the main house. Soong joined Jing and the two of them retired for the night. The next day, Nazanin sent Kasara away. Soong would not see him for another two months.
***
She spent an excruciatingly boring week teaching the hawk to trust her—“manning” the hawk, as Nazanin called it.
“It’s the most tedious matter,” she said. “First, you simply will sit with him so he knows you. You are a huge, strange creature. He has to get used to being around you.”
The first two days, Soong sat with the hawk. Soon, however, she could not endure the boredom and began to do her training exercises with the hawk nearby. Her sudden movements and the shouting she, as a martial artist, used to focus her concentration frightened the bird. But it also seemed to understand Soong’s intensity and purpose. She remembered the term yarak—a hawk’s focus when it killed. When Soong went through a kata or a sequence of movements, the bird watched with fascination. After a week, Nazanin marveled at how “manned” the bird seemed to be and said Soong could move on to the next phase of training, which was feeding the bird.
“Have you named him?” Nazanin asked.
“No, my Lady.”
“Then you need to. It’s only a superstition, but most falconers give their birds nice, sweet, gentle names. So don’t called him ‘Killer’ or ‘Ares.’ Find something pleasant.”
Soong’s goshawk became “Emerald.” His feathers had an odd greenish tint at the ends, visible only when one was close to him. The name suggested intimacy to Soong.
Emerald began to eat from his mistress’s leather glove in only three days, which Nazanin said was remarkable. Soong began to train the bird with a lure and learned the skills of hooding, putting jesses on the hawk’s talons, and tying the falconer’s knot.
“I said you should find a bird that could love you. Apparently, you chose one who did. His progress is remarkable. He trusts you. Soon you will be flying him.”
“I’ll look forward to that. Where is Kasara?”
“He’s away on a diplomatic mission—not far, and not in a foreign land, just working with some tribal peoples in the area. He’ll be back at the end of July.”
Soong continued to train Emerald. He made progress at a rapid rate. And—a thing she had dismissed as absurd when she heard Jing say this before she left—she began to love the creature. Another thing that surprised her was how she missed having Kasara around.
The sexual exploitation Soong had experienced as a servant made her resolve to live the rest of her life in celibacy. She would be as one of the legendary warrior maidens of ancient days: Xun Guan and Hua Mulan. Of course, she was not a virgin, but she could live a life apart from men, devoting herself to arms, and doing good for the downtrodden—and serving the princess, who had taken her from Du Fu’s house, showed her kindness, and trained her as a fighter.
Now, she thought, I’ve let myself fall for a young man who has the reputation of a seducer. You can take the girl out of the whorehouse, but you can’t take the whorehouse out of the girl.
She chided herself for thinking such thoughts. Jing had spent hours trying to develop her attitude toward the past.
“You were exploited, Soong,” she would say. “You had no way to resist the brutality those men subjected you to. Don’t blame yourself for the crimes they committed.”
She acknowledged the truth of Jing’s advice. At a young age, she had hired herself out as a servant. Naïve, she thought, recalling her belief that she would spend the two years of her indenture there washing dishes, cooking, and cleaning. The chief serving woman told her she would have other “duties.”
Soong wanted to go home, but remembered hearing her father tell her mother one night when they did not know she was listening that if things did not improve, they might have to send her two sisters to one of the local brothels to work as prostitutes. She realized what she would have to do. She was the oldest daughter. Since such a thing had befallen her family, it would be she who would become a prostitute. She told the chief serving woman she would be happy to serve in this way. Her willingness resulted in a fairly generous stipend on top of her pay as a servant. She sent all of her money home so that her sisters were spared the humiliation of the brothel.
She told herself she had done the right thing and had rescued her sisters; that, as Jing tried to convince her, she had been victimized. Yet, in her heart, she called herself a slut, whore, and harlot. The truth of logic could not overcome the rapaciousness of emotion.
Having Emerald soothed her loneliness. She could not quite comprehend why. She took the bird outside and taught him to strike at snares—dummy animals the hawk would attack. Then she would feed him raw flesh. Soon she would let him fly free and hope the creature had bonded enough with her that he would return and not fly away to the wild.
When she was not working with the hawk, she trained, meditated, sparred with women in the nearby village who could fight with staves. She practiced archery and throwing darts and other projectiles. She meditated and did her katas, but often Soong was bored. She asked Nazanin if she could do some work around the estate.
“You are my guest. I can’t have you working as a servant.”
“I’m used to working. Isn’t there something I might do?”
Nazanin pondered. “I have a herd of ponies grazing in the meadows to the north,” she said. “I need someone to bring them down before winter settles in. If you go, you should be armed. Wild beasts abound in the area, and occasionally, one may encounter brigands. I’ll send a servant and some guards along with you.”
“If it’s a dangerous area, I should go alone, mistress. That would be safest. If a wild beast attacks, it will only attack me. If there are bandits, they won’t be able to take whoever is with me as a hostage.”
“I see. As you wish, Soong Yuan.” She smiled. “Pity the bandit who tries to rob you.”
Soong selected a sword, took along throwing stars, darts, and a backpack containing food and two blankets. She set out on her journey.
Not far from the estate, the land climbed steeply. She followed the path Nazanin had described. The sun rose higher as she made her way and the air cooled. Soong reveled in the beauty all about her. Mountains, purple and shimmering in the mist, rose up, one range after another, and stretched out toward the horizon. A few clouds hovered in the hard blue sky. Flocks of white and scarlet birds formed murmurations above her. She saw wild sheep, deer and, once, off in the distance, a leopard. Hawks—many of them goshawks—circled silently above her, riding the air currents. She thought of Emerald and realized she wished the bird was with her on her journey.
She found the herd of ponies at dusk. Nazanin had said it would be a two-day journey, but probably had not realized how fit and determined Soong would be. The animals—she counted twenty-three of them—stood together in a broad, grassy area surrounded by tall rocks and scraggly trees. They looked at her dubiously when she walked into their enclosure, a few of them stirring uneasily, one or two whinnying softly.
Jing had taught her how to approach wild animals. On their journeys they had encountered tigers, panthers, bears, and buffalo (the latter, Jing had told her, was the most dangerous of animals).
“Animals react to the energy they sense in you. If you are calm, they will be quiet.”
Soong received this skeptically—until Jing walked up to a white tiger that had jumped from a rock outcropping and growled at them. The princess had approach it slowly and put her hand on the creature’s face. After a long moment, the animal turned and sauntered off into the wilderness. Soong fancied it had purred. Now she would have an opportunity to test her skill—albeit, on much less dangerous animals.
She calmed herself, suppressing the troublesome memories she had of riding (she was not good with horses). Then she remembered how Jing had said not to suppress bad memories and fear but to “speak with them”—to bring them to the front of one’s mind and ponder the anxieties rather than trying to suppress them.
The ponies gave her dubious looks but did not bolt. She walked to one that seemed the strongest in the herd. It gazed at her with the large, sad eyes that even the fiercest horse looked out with. The animal stood still, and she caressed its neck. Sensing its pleasure at her touch, she scratched its face, which seemed to give the creature considerable joy.
By now, the sun was sinking low. Soong went off a ways from the herd because the smell of dried meat would alarm them if she ate too close to where they lay. She eat jerky, bread, drank wine, and once more, carefully approached the mass of ponies. A couple of them raised heads and made noises, but none of them fled. She found a grassy patch between two of them and slipped into it. She made to roll up in her blanket but then realized the warmth of the animals would be all she needed to survive the cold, so she used her blanket only as a mat.
The warmth and the earthy smell of the animals soothed her; reminded her of growing up on a hardscrabble farm where sometimes animals slept in the house at night. Nothing romantic about those days, she thought. Nothing at all. Still, despite borderline poverty, she had been happy as a child. It was only later that things turned grim.
Soong drifted off to sleep, ears filled with the sound of horses breathing quietly.
***
She stirred when she smelled wood smoke. Once she was fully awake, Soong calmed her mind, both so she would not startle the horses and so she could calmly assess the situation. She managed to extract herself from the mass of sleeping animals without waking any of them and make her way into the meadow, toward the craggy entrance so she could see who had lit a campfire.
Dawn had not broken and the air was foggy and cold. She opened her pack and took out her sword and four throwing stars. There was no need to assume whoever had lit the fire would be hostile. Still, she had to be careful. Soong crept past the entrance, climbed one of the rocks, and peered through the mist. She could see the outline of tents, the orange glow of fires, and the shadowy shapes of guards at the camp’s perimeter. Horses and four or five yaks were sleeping or beginning to stir just past the fires.
She could see enough of the guards to tell by their dress that they were Chinese or Xingnoan. The thought came to her mind that it might be Kasara’s party. Nazanin had said he would return soon.
Soong relaxed. She saw his horse—he rode a white horse—among the roans, bays, and blackies. After a moment, she saw Kasara.
He visited the latrine they had dug and covered with a tarpaulin. Once out, he stopped to talk with various members of his company, from soldiers to muleteers. Soong noticed a group of four women approach him. Nuns, she thought. She could tell that they were Nestorians, probably Xingnoans from one of the convents in the mountains. He bowed to them and wished them well, they went off to an area sheltered by rock, most likely to pray.
Soong clambered down the rock, sheathed her sword, and hurried to the enclave. Kasara and the men with whom he had spoken noticed her. They were startled—especially because Soong was armed—but Kasara recognized her and told them to be still. He walked to her, a wide smile on his face.
“I can’t think of a more pleasant surprise than to see you here, Soong. Did Mother send you to bring the horses down?”
“She did.”
“I thought I would come by and check on them.”
“Good. I wasn’t certain how I would get them to follow me back. I’m not good with horses.”
“That won’t be a problem. But I’m being rude by making you stand there. Breakfast will be served soon. The nuns we brought are from Saint Theosebia’s convent. They’ve come to start a school in our region. They’re bathing at the hot spring over there. I’m sure they won’t mind if you join them.”
It would feel good to bathe, Soong thought. She remembered the incident with the assassins and how the princes had washed her afterwards. A bath would soothe her.
She went with a female servant who called out that the sisters would have a visitor. Soong entered the hidden spring. Through the steam rising into the cold air, she saw the nuns, pretty in their virgin nakedness, and bowed to them. They invited her into the water. She stripped and joined them.
The women marveled at her strong, toned body, though they did not say anything about it. The pleasure of bathing had put them in a merry mood. They gave Soong soap berries and a cloth. She washed, reveling in the warmth and the intimacy of doing so with other women.
They told her about their mission to start a school. Soong told them about her older Sister, Ming Mei, who had converted to Christianity and become a nun at the Nestorian convent of Saint Agnes. They were impressed that she had been admitted to such a venerable cloister.
They finished bathing, dried off, and dressed. By the time she and the sisters came back to the camp, breakfast was ready. Kasara invited her to eat with him in his tent, but she said she preferred to eat outside. The sun had peaked over the mountains by now. The mist had lifted and it felt warmer.
“A beautiful dawn,” he said.
“Every dawn is beautiful,” Soong replied. So her answer did not seem like a rebuff, she added, “I’ve never seen a dawn I did not consider a glimpse of paradise. In the mountains, the sun is wonderful to see.”
“Did you sleep with the horses last night?”
“I did. They kept me warm.”
“You slept among them.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Most unusual. They guard their sleeping places as much as we do.”
“The princess taught me to quiet my spirit. The beasts were nervous at first, but they did not seem to see me as a threat.”
“She taught you a useful skill. Your calm is the reason your goshawk, Emerald, trained so quickly. He sensed no reason to fear you.”
“He responded quickly?”
“It can take longer than a year to train a hawk. Emerald hunted and returned to you after a few months.”
“You say the horses trust you, Kasara?”
“I spent quite a bit of time caring for them.”
“Will you help me lead them back? Your mother wanted me to bring them to the estate in anticipation of winter.”
He said he would.
Soong looked in the sky and saw a hawk. She thought a minute and said, “Can we go see how they react? Just the two of us. I’m not certain they would let you lead them if I’m there.”
She met his eyes. He nodded, told his second-in-command that he and Soong planned to assess the herd, and the two of them walked out of the camp, across an expanse of meadow, and past the craggy rocks that formed the “gate” of the enclosure. Once they were inside and out of sight, Kasara kissed her.
Soong’s passion broke out like a flood. She kissed him wildly. When he put his hands under her shirt, she reached back and untied the band of cloth she wore underneath so he could touch her breasts. She felt his hands on her, squeezing, fingers rubbing circles on her nipples, running down her sides, under her waistband, bottom, and her intimate parts. She gasped and touched him. She felt out of control—yet, at the same time, Soong knew she had determined what she wanted. She was forcing her will upon Kasara, not he upon her.
He picked her up and carried her twenty feet or so to a small cave she had not noticed. They flung off their clothes and made a pallet of them on the sandy floor.
In her two years as a servant/house prostitute, she had seen the bodies of many men. Kasara had a pleasing body (unlike most of the men who had bedded her in those days). He took her in his arms, and she felt the rapture of his love; the violence of it was sweet to her this time. The dry cave with its sandy floor and stone walls created a blessed sense of safety and intimacy.
She got her joy twice—a thing that had never happened before. A blinding wave of pleasure rolled over her once and again. Right after the second time, he emptied his seed into her.
For years to come, Soong would remember the moments afterward. He had rolled off her, put his arms around her, and the two of them lay on their sides. They did not speak. The utterance of a word would seem like blasphemy. Both knew that they could not linger long. Everyone will know what we did, Soong thought, and the longer we stay here, the more it will confirm that we went away to share an intimate embrace. But who cared? Their embrace had been healing. She would tell that to anyone who smirked at her or joked about it or censured her—even the nuns. It had been a holy act.
After some moments, he spoke. “We ought to get back. Will you be all right, Soong?”
She puzzled a moment then realized what he was asking.
“This is a safe time,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
During her years at Du Fu’s, the other women there had taught her how to keep from getting pregnant. In the winter months, they often ran out of contraceptive herbs and had to be aware of their natural cycles. Her period had just ended. She would not be in any danger of getting pregnant.
“Let’s go,” she said.
They dressed and went to the horses, formed them into a line, and led them out of the enclosure. Once they arrived at the camp, muleteers took charge of the herd.
On the journey back, Soong stayed with the nuns. All were Chinese but one, who looked Russian. She spoke Chinese fluently and with no accent, so she assumed the girl had grown up in China. They talked about their homes and their callings to be nuns. They asked Soong about her religious beliefs and looked shocked when she said she had none.
“My family worshipped the deities of our village. I never paid much attention to it, though I suppose I try to follow the Tao and do good. But I don’t involve myself in worship of any sort.”
“Anytime you wish to worship with us, you are welcome,” one of them, who, though young, seemed the leader of the group, told her.
“Thank you. Perhaps I will.”
They said no more. The journey would be a long one and talking seemed to tire people. And nuns were taught to be silent and speak only when necessary. Soong remembered Ming Mei telling her this. She would join them in their prayers, she resolved. They had been friendly and gracious and she needed to respect this.
They walked until the sun was at its high point, found a shady grove, and sat down to eat. She ate with the Christian sisters. After a while, Kasara waved at her and she went over to where he stood.
“You seem to be avoiding me,” he said, flashing a smile.
“I’m not avoiding you. There’s no reason for me to do that.”
“You like the company of nuns better?”
“For now I do. They’re very pleasant company.”
“I’m not?”
She shot him a look.
“Kasara, you laid me. It was pleasurable, but my world does not revolve around you because of that.”
He had not expected a rebuke, mild though it was. “Oh, I see,” he said. Then, not knowing what to say next, he bowed and went away.
She watched him walk off and went back to where the nuns sat. They finished their meal, said after-grace, and got ready for the last part of the journey.
The sun beat down on them as they trudged along, stopping once to rest in a shady grove before continuing until the estate came into view. Nazanin sent a rider out who brought them water. They made the last mile of the journey and were received into the cool and comfort of the manor house.
Nazanin was pleased Soong had brought the horses back.
“Your son helped.”
“Still, you found them. They accepted you. You have a gentle spirit, but also passionate and commanding.”
Soong ate, rested, and said she wanted to see Emerald.
Nazanin accompanied her to the aviary. She wondered if Emerald would respond or even recognize her. But the hawk spread his wings. He made a sound—not exactly chirping, more like a hum, making Soong smile.
“You’ve missed me.” She put on a glove and untethered the hawk. She would take him hunting.
Soong removed the tether and Emerald flew to her fist. She caressed his head and neck, a thing she knew the bird liked. It hummed more and they went outside.
She raised her arm, the signal for Emerald to fly. The creature rose into the air. Soong had declined to put a bell on her leg. She remembered being summoned by a bell when she served in Du Fu’s house. She watched her hawk soar high in the air, make a wide gyre, reveling, no doubt, in the freedom he enjoyed. But the circles he made grew smaller, closer to the earth, and eventually landed on Soong’s gloved fist.
A breeze blew up as she fed Emerald some raw flesh, amazed to watch him devour the red chunks of meat. It was amazing, she thought, that some birds ate seed, some insects, and some the flesh of other creatures. Every animal—even animals within a species—followed the dictates of their own nature.
After the hawk finished eating, he flew into the air again. Soong knew from holding him that his weight was right, his feathers full, and that he would hunt. The hawk was in yarak. He was ready and fit to kill. He could give expression to his nature. Even though he had been taken from the wild and subjected to something different from life in the forest; there was something foreign to the patterns of behavior a hawk would normally experience. He still knew his nature and acted accordingly. Some might think it cruel to remove a creature from its habitat and subject it to training such as Emerald had undergone. Perhaps it was. Still, the practice had existed thousands of years. It did not break the nature of a hawk. A captive bird could still live free. It could be in yarak.
Emerald did not want to hunt. He was not hungry because Soong had given him food. She would take him out near dusk. He would want to hunt by then.
She would ask Kasara if he wanted to go along with them.