A quiet month passed. Slowly, Song Feng got used to reading, writing and magic. Her days started following a new pattern of reading, writing, learning magical theory and some history, talking about differences between Chinese magical and non-magical cultures and eating meals with Jiao-long and sometimes Zhu-ge Liang. She would even go home every other weekend. It was odd, being able to see her family so often, but Feng was getting used to that too.
She made slow but steady progress. It was difficult, it was different, but it was oddly, at least mostly, enjoyable: like stretching a muscle that she had forgotten about - she supposed that was her brain, though she doubted that it was a muscle. Feng still hated traditional characters, and her writing still looked more like a five year-old’s than a ten year-old’s, but she was improving. Jiao-long kept reading to her every night, and Feng made sure to fix the form of the characters to the sound of the words.
Feng was looking forward to having a wand of her own, though. She had gotten an ordinary paper fan just because it was hot, but it wasn’t magical like Jiao-long’s and she couldn’t use it to serve herself soup. After a lifetime spent in gymnastics, and not in school, she wanted to be able to actually practice spells instead of just learning the theory. She didn’t need to know physics to be able to fly on the bars. Falling was a far better teacher than a book. After breaking her ankle on the vault, she had never over-rotated that badly ever again. Plus, she still wasn’t positive why she needed to know magical theory, much less history to actually perform magic.
Song Feng came down to breakfast that Saturday as she had done for the past month. The food was already on the table and both Zhu-ge Liang and Jiao-long were already there. After a lifetime of waking up at sunrise or earlier, Feng had remained a morning person. She still could never beat Zhu-ge Liang and Jiao-long down to the dining room though.
She sat down, and Jiao-long sent a stream of jook into her bowl. “Thank you,” Feng said, breaking up a yutiao and then picking up a piece with her chopsticks and dipping it into the liquid and biting down with relish. She loved the taste of the fried bread after it got a bit soggy in the rice porridge. The additional salt also made the porridge taste better.
“Young Mistress Song,” Zhu-ge Liang said, to get her attention.
Feng looked up from her breakfast, swallowing another piece of fried bread. “Yes, sir?”
“Today, Master Liu, the wand-maker will arrive to test you for a wand,” the headmaster announced.
“Really? I’m finally going to get a wand of my own?” Song Feng asked. It’s about time! It’s already been a month! How much longer can I learn magic without having a wand to actually do magic?
“Yes. He will be arriving around lunch, I believe.”
Feng resisted the urge to sulk. He has to go and tell me that I’ll get a wand and then make me wait for Master Liu to even show up. “Why does he have to come here, anyway? Can’t we just go to his shop?” she asked grouchily.
Both Jiao-long and Zhu-ge Liang were silent for a moment. “Do you remember, we talked about keeping you and your heritage a secret for a while? If you go to Master Liu’s shop then everyone will know about you,” Zhu-ge Liang said finally.
“Why does it have to be a secret, again?” She vaguely remembered that long speech that Zhu-ge Liang had made but she hadn’t thought about it since.
Zhu-ge Liang sighed slightly. “Because there has not been a Muggle-born student at the Dragon Pearl for a long time. Muggle-borns have been historically excluded from the Dragon Pearl. It would be better if we didn’t reveal your heritage until at least after your first year of school so that the detractors cannot say anything against you.”
She considered that. I guess it makes sense. I’ve never been good at lying though. Well... I’ve never had to lie before either. For that matter... “So what are you going to say that I am? What am I supposed to say when people ask where I’m from?”
Feng and Jiao-long both looked at Zhu-ge Liang expectantly, Jiao-long with a hint of a smirk. “Well... I had been thinking that you could still be a farmer’s daughter, but one from our lands. That would explain why you have been staying with us.”
“And how will you explain her lack of knowledge about our culture?” Jiao-long asked, in an almost-lazy tone.
After a long moment, Zhu-ge Liang responded, “Amnesia.”
Feng blinked. Amnesia? For a moment she struggled to remember that word. It happened all the time in dramas... Losing your memory, she finally remembered. “Isn’t that all... very complicated and... unnecessary? Is it such a big deal that I’m Muggle-born?”
This time Zhu-ge Liang didn’t hesitate. “It is very important that you are Muggle-born,” he replied. “The Dragon Pearl is the oldest and most prestigious school in the Middle Kingdom.” Feng sighed. He kept saying that. It was true, though Feng certainly didn’t care or appreciate the gravity of that statement.
“And this year, the youngest son of the emperor will be entering school. If word gets out that you are Muggle-born, the conservative groups will not let you attend school,” he added sharply.
A real life prince... that will be interesting. The curious streak that had led Feng to knock on Mei-ling’s door made her ask, “Why?”
“They do not think Muggle-borns belong at a place like the Dragon Pearl,” Zhu-ge Liang answered shortly. “I disagree. It is time that some of these old, ridiculous traditions change.” He was as irritable as Feng had ever heard him be.
Feng shrugged. Politics is boring. Whenever Jiao-long tries to teach me some of it, I want to fall asleep. She went back to eating her breakfast and resigned herself to not meeting the wand-maker until the afternoon.
Lessons that morning felt dreadfully boring. She fidgeted at her desk and tapped the back end of her pen impatiently. Jiao-long kept trying to break her of using pens, but she couldn’t help it. Feng hated the mess that brushes made. A felt tipped pen made the same kind of marks and with significantly less possibility of accidentally splattering everywhere, ruining everything she had just written.
Jiao-long hid a smile at the girl’s antics. “Let’s talk a little about wands.”
Song Feng immediately sat up a little straighter at her desk. Finally, something useful!
“The five elements are?” Jiao-long prompted.
Feng refused to sigh at the question, even though she had been drilled in it more times than she wanted to count. “Wood, earth, water, fire and metal.” She answered in the ‘overcoming’ cycle, adding: “Wood parts earth. Earth absorbs water. Water quenches fire. Fire melts metal. Metal chops wood.” It was a memory trick designed to help students remember the five elements, but it was also one way of describing the relationship between the elements.
“Very good. For the first-year opening ceremony at the Dragon Pearl, you will complete this cycle. For the eighth-year closing ceremony, you will complete the generating cycle.” Jiao-long paused.
Feng took the hint and dutifully repeated the generating cycle: “Wood absorbs water. Water rusts metal. Metal breaks up earth. Earth smothers fire. Fire burns wood.”
“Good. Our magic is aligned with the elements as well. The most effective wands, staves and other weapons are those that are matched to the user’s element type. The cores are also matched to the user’s personality, which increase the power of the weapon.” Jiao-long placed her fan across Feng’s desk. “Take a look.”
Feng ran her hands along the smooth, cold, silvery metal of the fan. “It’s made out of steel?” she asked.
Jiao-long nodded. “With a core of dragon heartstring.”
A dragon for a dragon... well that makes sense. I wonder what kind of core, Zhu-ge Liang has. It was surprisingly light for steel, but very brightly polished. “It’s beautiful,” Feng breathed. She didn’t know much about metal work but she could appreciate the smooth coldness, and the way it almost hummed with energy. “May I open it?”
Jiao-long nodded. Song Feng slowly opened the fan. She had seen the inside before, but it was briefly and from a distance. The inside was embroidered red silk. Orchids for the Zhu-ge family and white tigers for Jiao-long and the Tiger clan. Feng traced a tiger’s claws gently. After almost a week of seeing orchids and some tigers everywhere, she had finally broken down and asked. She didn’t care about clan symbolism but at least she knew why they were plastered everywhere in the house.
“Did you get the silk redone after you got married?” Feng asked, curious.
Jiao-long smiled. “The body of the fan also has orchids and tigers.” Feng closed the fan and looked at the outside again. One side was pressed with a fanciful motif of orchids, the other side with a tiger on a mountain. “No, this was part of Liang’s wedding present to me. A very practical present.” Jiao-long smiled to herself. “Most men would probably not give their wives another weapon for the wedding.”
Feng blinked. Another? “Is it normal to have more than one weapon?”
She didn’t even think to ask whether it was normal to have weapons, in addition to wands. Jiao-long and Zhu-ge Liang had so many weapons in their training room and they were all regularly used and cleaned, so she simply took it for granted that all magical people in the world would utilize magical weapons to cast spells... as well as Muggle-type weapons, since Jiao-long and Zhu-ge Liang maintained several rifles in their collection and one pistol, which Zhu-ge Liang claimed was a gift.
Jiao-long pursed her lips. “For us, it is normal to carry multiple weapons. It is harder to be defeated if you have more than one weapon, particularly if they are different types with different purposes. Here.” The woman handed over a dagger from her belt.
Feng examined this one. A tiger’s face made up the guard, and more tigers were painted onto the scabbard.
“This is the one that I made in school.”
Feng put the dagger down carefully. “We make weapons in school?”
Jiao-long smiled and nodded. “It is the only real way to bind a weapon to yourself, truly and completely. You need to make it yourself, with as little interference from outsiders as possible. If anyone else tried to use that dagger, it would probably rebel.”
Feng was suddenly very glad that she had put the dagger down without trying to take it out of the scabbard.
“The Tiger Clan has always been associated with metal. Despite being an aristocratic family, we are all taught how to work with metal, especially steel.”
Feng struggled to imagine how Jiao-long would look in a forge, with her silk clothes and her fancy hair pins.
But if we make weapons then... “So why do we even need wands then, if we just make weapons ourselves?”
Jiao-long removed a slender gold colored rod from her sleeve. “Wands are more multi-purpose. They are also more practical for teaching beginning magic to students. Without a strong knowledge of the basics, a more specialized weapon will not help the user at all.”
“You never use your wand though,” Feng pointed out.
“My fan is more attuned to me and it is easiest to keep with me at all times,” Jiao-long admitted. “But should I lose my fan, I can still use my wand, or my knife.”
Suddenly, the house elf, Ling-ling entered the room. “Master Liu has arrived. Will the Young Mistress please attend Master Zhu-ge and Master Liu in the southern sitting room?”
“He’s early,” Jiao-long commented. Feng waited, at her seat, hands clasped, trying to look properly lady-like. “Well, go on.”
Feng grinned and ran out of the room. Jiao-long is the best.
“So this is your mysterious new stray,” the wand-maker commented when Feng entered the room. He was not nearly as old as Zhu-ge Liang, he was probably only middle-aged. His hair was still mostly dark though it was beginning to have gray streaks. Feng disliked him immediately.
“Master Liu,” Zhu-ge Liang said in a warning tone.
“Honored Headmaster Zhu-ge,” Master Liu responded, with a slight bow that was just slightly mocking.
She resisted the urge to glare at him and pulled out her fan to cover the lower half of her face so she could stick her tongue out at him without him noticing.
“You’ll have to do better than that to fool me, child,” the wand-maker laughed. “You, cheeky brat, come here.”
Song Feng sat across from him, trying not to sulk too obviously.
“I will need to prick your finger to get some of your blood,” Master Liu said.
She held out her left arm. He took her hand and then gasped. “Where did you find this girl, Zhu-ge Liang? Even farmers’ daughters do not have hands this rough.” Feng glared this time. He had been rude first. It had been a month since she had stopped training, she had even started using hand lotions. What is his problem? she thought grouchily.
The Headmaster smiled enigmatically. “I told you, that I could answer no such questions, Master Liu.”
The wand-maker grumbled and took out a long needle.
“What is your name, young mistress?”
Zhu-ge Liang gave her a stern look, but she ignored it. “Song Feng,” she answered.
“Which ‘feng’?” The wand-maker asked, as he heated up the needle with a spell.
This time Zhu-ge Liang cut her off before she could explain that the way she wrote her name was the character for phoenix and not for maple or bee or any of the other homonyms for feng. “No questions, Master Liu.”
The wand-maker snorted. “Keep your secrets then, headmaster. It’ll all come out in the end. It always does.”
He pricked her finger hard to get through her calluses and then let the blood drip on to a white card and a piece of silk cord. “The cord will go into your wand to further bind it to you,” Master Liu commented, as he smeared the blood evenly on to the undyed cord.
Zhu-ge Liang handed her a handkerchief to staunch the blood flow. She felt bad getting blood on it, but she would have felt even worse getting it on her clothes. At least magical cleaning was a lot more convenient than normal cleaning.
Master Liu had brought some kind of elaborate machine, that spun and whirred and did all kinds of odd things and he fed the card through it.
“In the mean time, we shall take your measurements. Stand up,” he ordered, as he pulled out a tape measure, and an abacus. He recorded a variety of measurements including her height, the length of her right arm, the width of her wrist, and the circumference of her head, while they waited for the machine to finish working.
Finally, the machine spat the card back out. It was bright red on both sides, with a feather shape missing in the center.
“You never make things easy, do you, Zhu-ge Liang?” Master Liu sighed after peering at the machine’s settings and fiddling with some knobs.
“What would be the fun in that?” Zhu-ge Liang said it with a very straight face, but Song Feng was beginning to be able to tell when he was kidding, and this time he was.
Master Liu snorted. “This is a bad sign. Let’s go outside and talk.” He gestured to the door.
Zhu-ge Liang sighed. “Go continue your lessons with Jiao-long, ok?” She didn’t even have a chance to respond before he turned around and walked outside with Master Liu.
Song Feng stared at the card, which Master Liu had left on the table. Bright red. Her magic was... fire aligned? She couldn’t hear the adults speaking and there was no point sitting in the room being bored. She sighed and walked back to her ‘classroom’. Besides, if she wandered around, the house elves were sure to find her and bring her back to Jiao-long anyway.
Feng reentered the classroom sullenly and sat down at her desk, sliding down her chair into a deep slouch.
“What did Master Liu say about your wand?” Jiao-long asked pleasantly, as if she hadn’t noticed Feng’s attitude.
“That there’s a problem,” Song Feng muttered.
“Oh?”
Jiao-long never let her get away with anything. She was even better than the coaches at spotting half-truths. Feng sat up, before Jiao-long could tell her to. “The card that he used to test my element allegiance turned really bright red on both sides.”
Jiao-long pursed her lips. “Well, I’m sure that Master Liu will be able to work something out. Shall we work on reading and writing for this afternoon?”
It was a statement posed as a question. “Yes, madam,” Feng replied, trying not to sigh. Traditional writing sucked.
Less than an hour, Song Feng had changed her mind. Traditional writing was terrible, brushes were worse. She had asked again and again to use a ballpoint pen, but this time, Jiao-long had stood firm. “You have to learn how to use a brush. That is all you are allowed at school,” Jiao-long repeated patiently.
“How am I supposed to take notes with this?” Feng growled, as she accidentally splattered her entire page with ink, rendering it completely illegible.
Jiao-long cast a quick charm, cleaning up the mess. She was about to answer, but something in the doorway caught her eye. “Ah, Master Liu, have you and my husband decided what to do about the young mistress’s wand?”
Feng made sure to carefully put down the brush so that it didn’t make more of a mess on the table or ruin the sleeve of her garment. Then she turned to face Master Liu. He looked troubled, his brow wrinkled, his hands rubbing together nervously.
“Well, the young mistress will have a phoenix feather core.” He bowed slightly. “It suits your name, my lady.”
Feng bowed back, slightly in her chair. She should have known that she would get a phoenix feather core. It was just a little too obvious, if she thought about it. She didn’t think to ask him when he had discovered or been told that her name was written as “phoenix.”
“As for the shell...” he paused. “The young mistress’s magic is closely aligned with fire. While it is a difficult task to craft an obsidian wand, the young mistress should receive her wand next month.”
Feng stood then and bowed to Master Liu. “Thank you, Master Liu.”
He grunted. “No need to thank me until you have your wand in hand, Young Mistress.” He nodded towards Jiao-long and then left the room.
“What’s his problem?” she asked plaintively. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Master Liu is just annoyed because obsidian is very difficult to work with,” Zhu-ge Liang said.
She fixed with him a stare, trying to remember her lessons in the elements and materials. “Obsidian, that’s volcanic glass, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “How do you get the core inside it?” she demanded.
“The wand-makers have their secrets.”
She sighed. She should have known better than to ask Zhu-ge Liang that kind of question.
The next month as promised, Master Liu delivered her wand. She held it gingerly, admiring its shape and color. She now knew the properties of obsidian, but was still unprepared for the physical manifestation of its beautiful, glassy blackness. It even felt warm in her hands. She wasn’t sure how that was possible, since obsidian is a kind of glass, but it was true. She traced a long streak of red that spiraled from the base to the tip. It even looked like fire.
“Try it out,” Zhu-ge Liang suggested. “If you concentrate, you should be able to pull sparks. Just light, no heat.”
She frowned but grasped her wand a bit more firmly. Feeling quite a bit idiotic, she waved it around.
“Not like that,” Master Liu interjected. “You need to be more forceful with your wand, don’t just wave it about like it’s a stick.” From inside his robes he pulled a thick white wand. “Observe.” He made one fluid gesture, moving his wand in an arc in front of him, multi-colored sparks bursting from the tip.
She imitated the gesture, concentrating on the idea of sparks.
She got sparks, followed by flames. Oh dear.
Zhu-ge Liang tapped his stave against the ground and the flames promptly vanished.
“Lots of power but no control,” Master Liu snorted.
Feeling determined to prove him wrong, Song Feng repeated the gesture again. This time only light burst from her wand in red sparks. She turned towards Master Liu daring him to say anything. He laughed.
“Stubborn girl.”
She resisted the urge to see if she could actually use her wand to do a proper spell, after two months of tutoring and training. If she did anything of the sort, then she didn’t want to know how much Jiao-long and Zhu-ge Liang would punish her.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, but you be careful,” Master Liu told Zhu-ge Liang. “And young mistress, you had better take care of that wand.”
Song Feng bowed in response. Master Liu nodded and left.
I’m finally becoming a real witch. Feng thought happily, unable to keep herself from running her hands all over the wand.
“Oh yes, classes at the Dragon Pearl end next week,” Zhu-ge Liang commented. “You’ll be meeting some of your peers then, since they will be coming to visit at some point during the break. Remember -”
“I was in an accident and my memory is messed up, I know, I know,” she muttered, grouchily. She still understand why it was so important, but if Zhu-ge Liang and Jiao-long insisted, then who was she to say otherwise? She added, a bit louder: “Who are we expecting then?”
“Of students in your year, Zhu-ge Lan, and Kwok Hui-neng, our grandchildren.”
Feng tried, and failed to remember how the Kwoks were related to the Zhu-ges. Family relationships were apparently immensely important at the Dragon Pearl, and Jiao-long had begun to teach her the lineages and marriage relations of various important families. Feng wasn’t sure what she hated more, the politics, the magical theory or the family allegiances that she was apparently supposed to remember and recognize through the clan symbols that were constantly worn.
Jiao-long took pity on her. “Kwok Hui-neng is the second son of Zhu-ge Xiao-li, our second daughter and Kwok Luo-yao, the heir and chief designer at Kwok Heavy Industries.”
Feng sighed. “Right.”
Family trees moved to the top of the list of things she hated learning. If she had paid more attention in her social history lessons, then she might have asked why the daughter of an aristocratic house had married a man whose family worked in manufacturing - never mind that Kwok Heavy Industries was one of the largest and most prominent companies in the nation, and the largest arms supplier. If she knew more about Buddhism, then she might have asked why a son of the most prominent military goods company was named after a Buddha.
“Also, you’ll be meeting the twins, Zhu-ge An and Zhu-ge Zhang. They will be the student representatives of the Zhu-ge clan for the coming school year.”
More bureaucracy. Student representatives were the link between the individual clans, the clan hierarchy, the students, the teachers and administrators. They were also disciplinarians, hall-monitors, all kinds of things, but, in short, they were bureaucrats. Important, essential bureaucrats, but bureaucrats nonetheless. She hated bureaucracy. Well, it would be an interesting week, regardless.