Silver Phoenix (29 page)

Cindy Pon

their heads to the ground, making her draw a sharp breath.

“It’s as if they welcome you.” Chen Yong’s voice behind her was higher than usual.

She reached the doors and examined them closely, forcing herself not to look back. They were carved intricately with beings she could not identify—three-legged people with two heads, horses with bird beaks, twisted serpents with human faces. Ai Ling reached out and stroked the etching. Was this the serpent demon they had slain? The doors slid ajar at her touch.

The dragon to her left snorted, stretching its four short legs and digging its jade claws into the mountain. The jasper lion rumbled deep in its throat and sat down on its powerful haunches once again, eyes never straying from Chen Yong and Li Rong. Ai Ling eased the massive doors open with a light touch and walked through.

She turned and motioned for the others. They stood immobile, gaping at her, the expressions on their faces making them seem like blood brothers after all. Chen Yong was the first to stride forward, and Li Rong scrambled to follow.

They stepped into an immense garden filled with fantastic trees that stretched to the skies. The air hung fragrant with the scent of honeysuckle and sweet ginger, distinct, yet not overpowering. A marbled path wound up toward a pagoda in the distance. Ai Ling stopped at the first tree, its trunk as thick as three men, the 158

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roots gnarled and spread wide, drinking deep from the ground. Its ivory leaves were shaped like the palms of hands, and it bore fruit—glistening human hearts that beat rhythmically on white stems. A jade placard set into the ground had the words LOVE LOST TREE etched in gold upon it.

What did that mean? She slanted a sidelong glance toward Chen Yong. Did his heart hang from the branches of this tree? Would hers as well, some day? The sound of a hundred heartbeats thudded against Ai Ling’s ears, each pulsing to its own story of loss. She walked on, unable to bear the thrum-ming of all those broken hearts.

The next tree was slender and delicate compared to the last, its trunks and branches silver. It carried no leaves, yet bore red and green berries of ruby and emerald. They glittered in the sunlight and rustled in the wind with a pleasant tinkling. She looked for the name of this tree and found the jade placard with the words ETERNAL BERRY TREE etched on it.

“The dragons eat the fruit from this tree,” Chen Yong said.

“You mean they don’t tear humans limb from limb?” Li Rong asked, only half jesting.

His brother lifted his shoulders. “It’s what I recall from
The
Book of the Divine
.”

“Only the fl ying dragons,” Ai Ling said.

Both young men turned to her. “Those who live in crevices 159

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and mountains—the ones that can’t fly—they all dine on different things.”

“Another scholar in this group, I see. And much nicer to look at than you.” Li Rong nudged Chen Yong in the ribs with an elbow.

“I don’t remember that from
The Book of the Divine
,” Chen Yong said, ignoring his brother’s gibe.

“It’s from
The Book of Lands Beyond
. Father didn’t let me read from it much; he didn’t consider it scholarly enough. I studied the book on my own,” she said.

The only one that had fascinated her more was
The Book
of the Dead
.

Ai Ling moved on to the third tree along the path. This one looked like an ordinary peach tree, lush with green leaves, but without fruit. She started at the sight of a six-headed vermilion hawk perched on one of its lower branches. The heads twisted in every direction, seeing everything, the six-pointed beaks as lethal as daggers. It flapped its wings, the span as wide as her own arms outstretched, but stayed on its perch.

A sudden movement from a higher branch revealed a nine-headed feline, a pantherlike creature with golden fur.

All nine heads hissed in unison as it extended sharp claws and climbed onto a lower branch. Ai Ling backed away from the tree, but not before reading the placard partially buried at its roots.

THE TREE OF IMMORTALITY.

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She turned and nearly slammed into Chen Yong. He stopped her with both hands and peered up at the hawk and the nine-headed golden panther.

“The most ordinary-looking tree is the most protected in this garden,” he said, dropping his hands from her shoulders.

Her father had told her of the Tree of Immortality when she was a young girl—the tales always fascinated her. It only bore fruit once in many human lifetimes, but the mortal fortunate enough to eat from the peach would live more than a thousand years. She never understood why anyone would want to live for so long and continuously lose loved ones, to watch them age and die. But many stories were told of men and women who murdered and betrayed for a taste of the fruit—for the possibility of immortality.

They walked past nine more trees, simply observing, silent in their awe.

There was the tree with leaves that were giant eyes blinking in the wind. The irises were of every shade imaginable, pink, green, scarlet, and orange. The pupils were all shaped differently, from circles to squares and diamonds, swirls and stars. The eye leaves rustled under the gentle breeze of the heavenly mountain, all blinking, and all-seeing. THE OBSERVANT TREE.

“What do you think it means?” Ai Ling asked no one in particular.

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“I don’t know, but it makes the hairs on my arms stand on end,” Li Rong said.

She felt the same way.

Another tree was subject to the change of seasons every few minutes—one moment in full bloom with ripe red fruits like apples, in the next all the fruits plummeted to the ground and withered. The leaves crumpled from brown to black until they decayed into nothing. The branches were bare before budding leaves appeared and red fruit began to form again. They stood watching the seasons change through two cycles, amazed by the speed, disconcerted by something so against nature in their world. The placard below read THE TREE OF LIFE.

The compression of the seasons haunted and disturbed Ai Ling, and she averted her face and walked on.

The winding path finally led them to the steps of the jade pagoda. Its sloping roof was hewn of gold, the pillars of white jade, and the rest, jade of the clearest green. Ai Ling climbed the steps, knowing in her heart that she had been summoned here. Chen Yong and Li Rong trailed behind her.

They had followed her through the gates and into the garden, as if accepting her as their leader in this otherworldly realm. But she did not feel like a leader.

A long rosewood table stretched across the diameter of the circular pagoda. A silk screen embroidered with mountains and clouds shaded the sunlight from one side. The rest of the pagoda was open to the outdoors, with a view of the 162

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gardens and trees beyond, a glint of water visible among the fl owers.

A Goddess sat regally behind the table, her three heads held high. One faced her audience directly, while the other two faced right and left. They looked to be identical in their features, ebony hair swept up in loops and adorned with pearls. The Goddess’ faces were lucent, pale. Long, slender eyes lined in black examined them intently, making Ai Ling feel as if she stood in her underclothing. A fine, straight nose graced each face, above a curved mouth touched with a hint of lotus pink. Her features were perfect, yet the Goddess with her austere expression was remote, above them, beyond any measure of human beauty.

Four arms protruded from her torso, two on each side.

One hand held a giant square-shaped chop carved from jade, another a calligraphy brush, while the third grasped an ink stick, and the fi nal hand held a blank rice-paper scroll.

“Ai Ling, you and your friends are welcome in the gardens of the Golden Palace. No mortal has passed through those gates in countless centuries.”

Why had they been allowed entrance? Ai Ling bowed her head, not knowing what else would be appropriate. Chen Yong and Li Rong both dropped to their knees beside her.

The Goddess set her brush down. “That is not necessary.”

She waved one hand imperiously. “Please sit.”

Carved chairs of jasper and jade appeared. Ai Ling fell into the jade chair, her awe at this magic dampened by her 163