“But just the other day, you said I had a lovely voice. Who am I to deny you the sound of my golden pipes?”
“Grating,” he corrects. “I said you have agratingvoice.”
“Ah, a great voice? That may be too much of a compliment.”
His good eye twitches. “Cease this unnecessary chatter and tell me what you want.”
“What I want? To spend some quality time with one of my wisest elders, of course.”
Doctor Qi snorts, knocking the side of my head with the handle of his cane. “Hurry up and come in. I have a long list of patients to see today; there’s a small outbreak of the pox in a village northeast of here, and I would prefer to head out as soon as possible.”
The inside of Doctor Qi’s shanty is a chaotic mess, every available surface covered in unfurled scrolls, vials of ointment, dried herbs, and other small items that I can’t even begin to name. It smells overwhelmingly of crushed gingerroot and dried mushroom, ingredients he no doubt bartered for down in the markets. In the corner, I spot the doctor’s wife quietly tidying, a large broom in her small hands. She gives me a polite bow, but she doesn’t seem to be in the mood to speak.
It’s hard for me not to notice their red threads leading in opposite directions from one another. Not a love match, then. Those arefew and far between up here in the North—or anywhere, truly—since marriageable women are scarce, eligible bachelors are far too plentiful, and matches are decided between families with the strategic shifting of dowries top of mind. With the chances of a blissful marriage being so slim, I can understand why it’s preferable to at least aim for a tolerable one.
“Do you have the money?” Doctor Qi asks gruffly.
I reach into my outer robe and untie the pouches. They’re hefty, each weighing a good four or five pounds, packed full with the bronze coins and silver nuggets I’ve laboriously earned over these past few moons.
“It’s all there,” I assure him. “I triple-checked, just for you.”
The old man simply grunts and turns to pull a heavy trunk out from under his workbench. It’s sealed at three different points with thick iron locks, the keys located on a chain around his neck. He unlocks them one by one before finally pushing the lid back, exposing the small glass vial seated securely amid a bed of yellow straw. Doctor Qi picks the vial up, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, and holds it against the light streaming in through the window.
Sitting at the bottom of the glass are two reptilian scales, shimmering like starlight despite their deep greenish hue. I can’t explain the warmth that blooms in my chest as I stare at them, transfixed, nor the way my heart drums loudly in my ears. These trinkets, more beautiful than emeralds and jade, are supposed to be A-Ma’s medicine?
“Crush these into a fine powder,” Doctor Qi whispers conspiratorially. “One scale in the morning and the other at night. Mix it in with your mother’s breakfast and dinner. It should provide her relief for at least a month.”
“A month?” I echo, taking the vial from him. “You told me this would cure her for good.”
He shakes his head. “I said itcould, but only if I secured a higher quantity. Dragon scales aren’t the easiest thing to come by. Count yourself lucky my contact in the South managed to sneak it past the border at all.”
My eyes go wide.
Damn it, he reallyisa quack.
“Dragons don’t exist,” I state.
“Anymore,” he counters. “They were once as real as the air we breathe. Our ancestors have been using what remains of them for centuries. Their claws forged into weapons, their teeth sawed into jewelry, fragments of their scales”—he gestures toward the vial I now hold in my possession—“used as the most potent of medicines.”
A laugh bubbles past my lips. “You can’t expect me to believe this, surely.”
“There are a great many things your simple mind will never understand, boy.”
“Well,thatwas uncalled-for.”
“Like I said, dragons and magic might now be a myth, but that was not always the case.” Doctor Qi harrumphs. “Do you have any idea the lengths I went through to procure these? If one of the emperor’s soldiers caught me smuggling them over the border, they would’ve had my head on the spot. You think I hobbled all the way down there and back for nothing?”
I pause. Is this what I sound like when I try to convince people of my abilities? Wild and brazen and downright impossible? I feel foolish for even considering it, but something stirs in my stomach.
Slowly, I rub my little finger, staring down blankly at my gray thread. It drags upon the ground: my Fated One is somewhere far, far away, perhaps forever beyond my reach. Perhaps Doctor Qi is correct. There are a great many things I don’t know, but there’s one thing I’m certain of: magicdoesexist.
Perhaps dragons did, too.
I pocket the vial and take a deep breath. I have little to lose at this point, desperation clawing at the nape of my neck. If I can help my mother feel even the slightest bit better, then this whole endeavor will be worth it.
“Do you offer receipts?” I joke lightly, doing my best to mask my unease. “In the unlikely case that I should require a refund.”
Doctor Qi waves his cane at me, but this time I manage to duck out of the way. “No refunds. Now, away with you!”
