Till The Ryu Tree Blossoms

*** (Begin)

Sansuri, ninth year of Emperor Kang's reign

THE SMOKE ROSE LIKE fairy wisps, tracing patterns in the air. Carefully, Ryu dipped a wooden spoon into the broth before bringing it to her lips. Eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, she muttered,

"Needs salt."

Standing on tiptoes, she reached a hand up toward the shelf above the kitchen stove. At one end was a large wooden holder nearly overflowing with all sorts of spoons, chopsticks and ladles, while next to it clay jars of various sizes stood in neat little rows. Grasping one of those jars she tossed a pinch of salt into the wok and added half a cup of water. Smoke hissed and she coughed.

Palm covering her nose, Ryu reached out with her other hand and pushed the double panel shutters open. Immediately, all the sights and sounds of the village came rushing in.

Sansuri was a young kingdom, but the land on which it grew was centuries old. To any cartographer its location would have been baffling in and of itself; why would anyone choose to build and grow a country at the back doors of wild, expansive woodland, locked in by the mountains and restricted by the sea?

The answer to that lied in the nature of Sansuri's birth, for it had not been brought forth from an explorer's grandiose planning, but rather from necessity.

When the Dark Ages began and the demons crawled out from their hiding places, the humans fled. They had never encountered such nightmares, and had no strength to deal with them. No cannon could blast apart invisible wraiths, no bullet could keep down rotting flesh and bone, and no steel could cut through the thick hides of the monsters, who some say were of fifty leather strips thick.

For half a century humans were hunted.

Then the leaders of kingdoms decided that they had had enough, and for the first and last time in known history relinquished all old grudges and placed aside their grievances, to amass an army worthy of all nations. They decided to bring the fight to the other side, to destroy the source of this epidemic once and for all. So they sought out the loneliest, feral, most desolate patch of land they could find, where demons roamed and ran free in some sort of hellish paradise, and they conquered it with brute force.

Then they set up camp, and they waited.

It took a hundred years. For a century kings sent their bravest and boldest men to Sansuri, only it wasn't known as Sansuri back then, but Suicide Cape. Men who went there knew they had higher chances of seeing a deity than to return. Wives who sent their husbands off received widow's compensation for the rest of their lives. Houses who had seen the goodbyes of sons had the sons' rooms cleared out, their things locked away for memory or donated, their names never to be spoken without tears. Noble families had portraits of their men specially commissioned and hung up on their walls, which soon became a symbol of sacrifice and bittersweet pride.

To date, not a single history book in all of Sansuri and beyond has ever recorded the return of a man from Suicide Cape.

With such a delectable target within reach, and the knowledge that reinforcements were either none or too late, the focus of all demonic entity zoomed in until it pinpointed heavily on that one tiny area, hemmed in by wilderness and raging waters. For 101 years the land extending outward from that section suffered a little less, breathed a little easier and hoped a little more, all because of the good men of Suicide Cape. For 101 years demon claws clashed against man-made steel in what seemed to be a relentless and perpetual war. For 101 years light battled darkness, human against inhumane, dead against living, until finally, when it seemed that there were no more sons left to be given, no more tears left to wept, finally finally - it was over.

The last of the demons were banished to whence they came, and the Dark Ages ended. People rejoiced. They celebrated, lighting the skies up with fireworks, kissing their neighbors and friends on the cheek. Kingdoms sent each other congratulatory gifts. Many marriages took place within that year. And many more boys rested easy knowing they would live to see past adulthood.

But when the festivities ended, as they had to, the people were left with the task of piecing together shattered fragments of their lives. And they couldn't do so, not without closure. So a petition was written and disseminated, demanding for their kings to send men back to Suicide Cape, to retrieve the bodies of those who had fallen. And if not even the bodies could be found, then these men would bring back the swords, or the armor; the bracelets, boots and garments; the journals and undelivered mail - anything, anything that was a token of the soldiers the people had once loved. When the men balked at venturing back toward the place of death, the womenfolk stepped up. Wealthier ladies offered bags of gold to merchant ships who were willing to bring them there, and they opened their arms to all who wished to come onboard; rich or poor, young or old, man or woman.

And so, exactly 183 days after the last demon was vanquished, a ship of women - only its crew were men - left the port of Khufu, and sailed for their destination. They had brought along cotton cloths and copper masks to fend off both stench and sight of death, and doctors to help those who could not cope. Pregnant women were advised not to go onshore (they had been advised not to attempt the journey at all, even). Mothers who could not leave their children behind were obliged to keep them belowdecks as soon as the shore was sighted, and not allow them up until it was nought but blue seas on all sides again.

On the 42nd day of their voyage, the sailor from the crow's nest was the first to yell out, "Land ho!"

On the 43rd day the ship could make out vague outlines of trees, rocks and sandy beach.

On the 44th day - they landed.

Only to find that Suicide Cape held nothing but splendor.

Whatever demonic forces that had once trudged its shores had retreated, taking every last inch of darkness and malevolence with it. With the malefic aura gone, the trees and flowers all around Suicide Cape could breathe and live again, and lived they did. The women docked and saw what the first men who had reached Suicide Cape 101 years ago must have seen - gorgeous blooms of cherry blossom and lilies, clumps of white cyclamen and jasmine, alongside broad acacia trees and weeping willows. Stalks of black iris had perfused the air with their fragrant scent, and the white sands of the beach positively gleamed.

All along the sands the women found souvenirs of their men - wedding rings, talismans, woven handkerchiefs, good-luck charms. And then there were the structures; the army had built simple dwellings, latrines, huts for cooking and storage for weapons. All empty now, all deserted, but they were reminders, and what the women were here for.

They never did find the bodies of their men that day, but each woman could now lift their quill from the last line of a chapter, a chapter that had run for a 101 years. Each woman cried and hugged and cried some more, but as dawn broke over the horizon they wiped away the last of their tears, and stood with their children as they gazed out to the sea.

At that moment one of them, an old noblewoman with gray brushed into her hair, stepped out from the line. She was an elegant lady dressed in silk gauze and blue trimmings, her hair twisted in a high bun by a simple jade pin. She had lost her husband, then both her sons to Suicide Cape, and she had never breathed a word.

"They will not come here," she said, soft. "They have seen the nightmares, and they will not come. But we have been protected, we have been blessed by the sacrifices made here, at this place, and we owe these sands a debt. These sands - they carried the war, they carried our victory, and most of all they carried the memories. These shores, it is all we have left. It is our only link."

On the 45th day of their trip, half of the women who came to Suicide Cape returned to the ship. Another half stayed. As the years grew, so did the little village at Suicide Cape, until it became a town, then a city, and when it crowned its first monarch - a kingdom. Somewhere along the line its name was changed to Sansuri, memory, and the people of what used to resemble an execution camp had never looked back since.

But that was in the past, this was in the present, and the girl Han Ryu knew nothing of the old days. She was born a whole dynasty after the end of the Dark Ages, and her earliest memory were the low, cinnamon-colored beams of her wooden house. She and her elder brother were raised solely by their father, who chopped trees and hauled timber for a living. Her brother, Han Ren, was far too impatient for school and dropped out when he was thirteen, whereupon he began jumping from odd job to another. He was now 24 and she, 21.

While her brother and father worked, Ryu spent her days cooking and cleaning. It was remarkable how much two hungry men could eat, and the dirt they managed to get on their clothes at the end of the day was beyond comprehension.

Now Ryu ladled the broth out into three wooden bowls, and placed them on the kitchen table. Next to the stove was a large earthen pot, and when she removed the lid clouds of steam billowed out, the warmth colliding against her cheeks. Exchanging the ladle for a rice paddle she scooped rice into three porcelain bowls. Bamboo chopsticks and spoons followed after, and Ryu looked at the table with satisfaction, hands on her hips.

Well, almost satisfaction.

She pushed the back door open and stepped out into the garden. Though the word "garden" might have been a bit of an exaggeration for this pitiful backyard plot; it was best described as an irregular patch of land that had been planted with common vegetation. Picking a few sprigs of azaleas off the bushes, Ryu paused for a moment to look out at the village in which she had lived in for all her life.

Rows and rows of similar houses to hers stretched out on both sides as far as she could see. To the left she knew laid the marketplace and the merchants, while to the right was the port and the fishermen. And somewhere in between these two sides, if she squinted hard enough, was the tall steeple of the qidan, their community hall and house of worship, where they gathered every Sunday to send up prayers to the Three Highborn Deities - Mingyu the Magnificent, Soyou the Supreme, and Baro the Benevolent. Vaguely Ryu recalled there was also a fourth deity, but she couldn't remember who it was now. Probably just a minor one.

She re-entered the kitchen and settled the flowers in a tall, narrow-necked vase. Then she set it in the middle of the table, pulled up a chair, and waited. Her brother would return first, then her father, trekking down from the woods behind their house. After lunch the two men would return to work, before retiring for the day at sundown. Han Ren worked five days a week, but their father, Han Lei, worked longer, sometimes even on Sundays itself.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Three strong knocks on the front door. Her face lit up.

"Coming!" she yelled, as she crossed the kitchen and into the living room. Even as she lifted the latch on the door she was already calling out,

"Han Ren! Did you get that velvet silk I asked you to - "

She stopped.

It was not Han Ren.

Three men in the red and black livery of the gendarme stood before the threshold, scabbards on their hips and wide-brimmed hats on their heads. Behind them the small gate of the house compound swung open. Inwardly Ryu frowned; obviously the three men had opened the gate and walked up the path, but the gate squeaked and was never oiled, so she should have heard a sound.

Closing the gap between door and frame she asked tentatively, "May I help you?"

One of the men stepped up. Ryu recognized the ox horn belt around his waist.

Royal magistrate.

"Han Ryu?" It was a question that already knew its answer.

She couldn't help hesitating. "Yes?"

"May we come in?"

Which was a ridiculous question, really. He was a man of office. How could she refuse? He might as well had handed her a parchment with the King's seal, demanding her to comply.

There was no place to sit except the dining table, and Ryu hurried to clear the bowls, flustered. "I'm sorry, I was waiting for my brother and father, they always come back for lunch, and I wasn't expecting company, I mean, not that I don't want you here but - "

"It's alright, Lady Ryu," one of the other officials said. He had a relatively high-pitched voice. "This won't take long."

That sounds terribly reassuring, she thought.

The magistrate sat down in her father's chair, and Ryu took her seat opposite. The two other men remained standing, one by the kitchen hallway and the other by the backdoor. No place to run.

Several silent seconds ticked by. The magistrate looked at Ryu, who looked at the stone floor, while the two men looked around the kitchen. Then the magistrate shifted, Ryu looked up, and he asked,

"How would you rate your bow, Lady Ryu?"

Ryu's heart skipped several beats. Sweat coated the lines of her palm as she swallowed. Oh, how she would have liked to lie. But instead she found enough voice to whisper, "I would rate it tolerable, my lord."

The magistrate's eyes were like burned almonds. "It must be a comparatively high level of 'tolerable' to be able to feed the family table."

Ryu's heart sank and disappeared into the floor. They knew.

Everybody in Sansuri knew the law. Keep a cow. Rear chickens. Consume more fish. Plant crops. Whatever you need, obtain it from the marketplace.

Never enter the woods.

They had all seen the flyers, scattered around the marketplace with pencil sketches depicting wild beasts six feet tall and minuscule insects with venom in one bite. The woods were forbidden to all save the royal hunting party, and the trappers and lumberjacks with valid licenses by the court. Her father was one of the latter.

When Ryu had first decided to hunt in the woods, she had gone into it knowing the full risk it entailed. Sansuri laws were strict, and anyone caught breaking them were either fined, jailed or executed. But the family income kept decreasing, and the bills kept increasing, so she had decided to do what she could to lessen the burdens on her brother's and father's shoulders. She planted vegetables. She bargained at every stall. And she sourced her meat from somewhere else.

For years she had gone about her weekend "trips" with care and constant vigilance, but now it seemed her time was up.

Cheeks pale, she tipped her chin. "Speak what you wish, my lord. I am ready to face the consequences."

"Are you now? Do you know what the punishment for entering the woods is?"

Ryu kept silent. She did.

"A fine of 1000 pieces of silver. That is one year of your father's wages, is it not? Also jailtime of up to a fortnight, dishonor and shame on your family, and the brand of criminal forever etched on your name."

Once again her heart dropped through her stomach and she struggled to keep her composure. 1000 pieces of silver! Did her years of hunting saved an equivalent amount of money? There were still debts on the house, and taxes to pay. They would not survive. Her brother and father would not survive. At least the court still fed prisoners in their cells.

"How long have you hunted in the woods?"

Her fingernails dug into her palms. "Only less than five years."

"Really now? Only five?"

She paused, feeling foolish. They knew she hunted. So of course they also knew how long.

Nothing escaped the Royal Magistrate.

Voice trembling she added, "Seven."

"I thought it might be so. So if I charged you 1000 pieces of silver for each year, and extended the jailtime accordingly . . . how much do you think you would have to give?"

The chair scraped an ugly sound as Ryu collapsed out of it and onto the floor, prostrating herself. She was shaking like a leaf in a storm, and her voice carried every shade of despair. Her pride screamed at her to stand and take the punishment as it was, but her brain overrode everything as it began to churn out images of the house being reclaimed, and her brother and father starving, perhaps even losing their jobs, facing scorn on the streets . . .

"I - Have mercy, my lord! It was only - it was only out of necessity that I hunted, so I could save the money spent on meat . . . our family is humble and poor, we do not have enough - "

The magistrate's voice cut through like a sword through cloth. "Liar."

Ryu's words died on her lips.

"You have a working brother and a father. They earn enough. Not sufficient to be wealthy, yes, but enough to survive. Perhaps if you ate salmon and abalone every day, then yes, your family would not have enough, but you don't, do you?

"You may lie to yourself, Lady Ryu, but not to me. You hunt because you like it. You hunt because the adrenaline coursing through your veins gives you so much greater pleasure than sitting in the house, knitting a frilly lace dress. You hunt because staying indoors, day after day, repeating the same wifely duties, is enough to drive a woman like you stark out of your mind."

Her voice was a hollow husk of its former self. "I don't understand - "

"Join the Gifting."

Her lungs forgot to breathe as the words left the magistrate's lips and fluttered their way into her ears. Ryu stared at the flagstones, only three inches from her face, and almost forgot about everything the magistrate had said before that last sentence.

"Get up."

The instruction kicked in only after a moment. Dully, she obeyed.

The royal magistrate couldn't have been more than five years older than what she was. His skin was very pale, in contrast to all the hours he must have had spent on duty in the sun. A single burnished ring on his left hand caught the sunlight and gleamed.

"You are of age. Have you considered?"

Somehow she found her tongue. "I believe that is a private matter, my lord."

"What about your brother? A common laborer, is he not, unable to sustain a steady job? Not ambitious enough for the court, I presume?"

Despite everything Ryu bristled. "He has his own ambitions, and they are both beyond the oceans and deeper than the seas. I will not have him derided."

"Simply making an observation, that is all."

Ryu found herself miserably wishing for her father. If only her father was here. He would know what to say. He would know what to do, how to appease, and perhaps come to some sort of a compromise.

"I will not be circuitous. Join the Gifting, and I clean your slate. Refuse, and the law will charge you with seven years of offence, and believe me when I say that money will become the least of your worries then."

"The law . . . the law says the Gifting must be willing. My brother can also - "

"I do not care about your brother. Let him join if he wants; the court can take both of you. What I care about is your decision."

The magistrate tickled the underside of an azalea, and then turned the intensity of his gaze on Ryu. "I want you."

"But why me?" Thoughts were swirling around Ryu's head. Relief was a major part of it, but there was also bewilderment; she could see nothing that she could offer to this man.

"Would you rather take the prison sentence then? This is your way out. Your only way, I'm afraid. It's either the Gifting, or me charging you for every single time you lied to your father about attending 'embroidery classes'."

Ryu paled even further. How did he know that? No one was supposed to know that. She told no one.

The magistrate stood up. "Just a little something for you to think about, Lady Ryu. A week from now the Gifting begins, and I am part of the counsel. Should you decide to join this wonderful affair, do come and ask for me by name. I can furnish you with excellent guidance."

The magistrate walked to the kitchen door and his two men followed suit. Just before he stepped out he looked back a quarter of an inch.

"After all, a tolerable lady such as yourself should also have dreams that lie beyond the oceans, and are deeper than the seas." His tone was mocking.

They walked out.

Ryu sat there for a moment, paralyzed. She should never have ventured into the woods. Why did she break the law? Now this was what she was going to get. She might have been presented with two options, but in the end there was only one choice she could make.

Abruptly she stood up and ran all the way out of the kitchen and to the front door. The magistrate was just walking out of the gate.

"What is your name?" she called.

A delicate finger closed the gate. It creaked. The magistrate looked up, and smiled.

"Lee Yoon-ki."