Insignia Read Online Free PDF Page B

want this,” I
answered in a whisper. Chao now held my and Mei Zhen’s happiness in
his hands. “Can you really convince them to take Mei Zhen? What if
they refuse?”
    Chao smiled. “It is done. The moon is full
now, and my precious Chu Hua received the Goddess’ blessing. They
will wait for Mei Zhen in the shallows tomorrow, and take her into
their family immediately.”
    “How do they do that?” I asked.
    “Ah, but it is a great secret, not to be
shared with humans. It must be enough that we know they exist at
all.”
    I nodded. “Very well. I will guard the
secret of the maidens always.”
    “You are a good young man. I’m sorry you
cannot have the future that you dream of.” Chao rose then and said
good bye.
    “Come to the riverbank tomorrow. Put on a
great show of grief for the Huang family and vow to avenge Mei
Zhen’s death. That rotten couple deserve to live in fear for the
rest of their days for what they have done to that lovely
girl.”
     
     
    And so, I stood on the beach, my father
gripping me tight as I flailed my arms and screamed at the
injustice and loss. Only Mei Zhen’s sister glanced my way, and I
saw the tears in her eyes too. She wanted to scream and cry and
pound her fists as was the usual custom, but by declaring Mei
Zhen’s death a suicide, the funeral was a silent one of shame.
    My feet sank deeper into the wet sand.
Something sharp cut my tender flesh but I took little notice. As
the four men tossed Mei Zhen’s weighted-body into the ocean I
screamed out loud as Chao had said to, but inside I made a promise
to Mei Zhen.
    See you on the next full moon, my one true
love.
     
    The End
     
     
     
     
BLACK SMOKE AND WATER LILIES

David Jón Fuller
     
     
    I am born in the Valley of the Forest
Monastery. It is a time of invasion.
     
     
    I am five years old. My name is Quick
Stream. I sit on the fence that pens our pigs while my father and
mother work in the fields. The mud stinks a familiar stench; earth
and slop and excrement. The sun is bright; it is summer. The
mountains surrounding the valley still have snow covering the tops.
My father has told me to keep an eye on the pigs, but to face away
from the sun and watch the pass to the west. It is called the Way
of Black Sorrow.
     
     
    At seventeen years old, I remember watching
the Way at five and tremble, for once again smoke blows through
from the far side of the mountains; the marauders have returned. At
seventeen I am safe behind the walls of the monastery, but I
tremble nonetheless.
     
     
    I am eleven years old. I live with my
father’s sister and her husband. He is unwilling to share his home.
I am old enough to work but not to be asked to leave. When the
harvests are poor, he yells at me. Perhaps he thinks it is my
fault. I don’t know what to say, so I leave until he has tired and
gone to sleep. The trees are not thick around the foot of the
mountains, but many evergreens grow higher up. The woods whisper in
the wind. The sound is soothing, and it helps one to forget. At
times, I see young monks wandering silently between the trees—they
are holy men; they tread softly on the earth, listening to the
whispers. They are men of peace, but all know they have trained
long to defend their monastery. At eleven I have heard that they
are fearsome in battle, as flowing in their movements as the
sapling in the wind, but hard as oak when they strike. I hide and
wait, and watch one as he passes. He does not look up; he gives no
sign of noticing me; and yet it seems he expects me to be here. At
eleven I do not understand how he can know this.
     
     
    When forty-three years old, only my right
hand is sore in winter; the knuckles crack open in the cold. Snow
covers the shingles of the monastery and blankets the valley in
white. I stand in the watchtower above the gates. Stone walls were
built before I was born, to protect the people of the valley. The
monastery has never been troubled by the marauders. They have
tended to avoid it.