Page 3 of A Forgery of Fate

“Here in Gangsun, a woman can’t run a business without her husband’s permission,” Baba cut in. “She can’t even own her home. Things will be different for my girls.”

“Yes, they will marry rich,” said Mama, who always had to have the last word.

They didn’t talk about my hair again because, a few days later, Baba announced that he was going away. He had accepted an urgent voyage that would take him halfway across the world. More than that, he couldn’t tell us. But we were used to his secret assignments.

“Will you sail across the Taijin Sea?” Nomi asked while Baba folded his warmest coats into his traveling chest. She had half a fried cruller—left over from breakfast—in one hand and chomped on it while she spoke. “I hear there’s dragons there. If you see one, will you make friends with it? Promise, Baba. I’d love nothing more than to know a dragon in my lifetime.”

Baba chuckled. “I’ve sailed the Taijin thirteen times, Nomi, and never once have I come across a dragon. But if I do, I’ll certainly send it your tidings.”

“Send it this too.” Nomi reached into Mama’s pan for the last cruller. She inhaled the smell of it with her eyes closed, then presented it to Baba as if it were her greatest prize. “The best friendships are made over food.”

Baba hugged her then, and I joined in too. Even if I had a hundred sisters, Nomi would always be my favorite.

“Where are you going, Baba?” Falina pressed. “Must it always be secret?”

“It’s only a secret because I haven’t yet received the details of the assignment,” replied Baba. “All I know is a treasure’s been found in the North, and I’m to transport it to the capital.”

“How long will you be away?” I asked.

“I should hope to return no later than winter.”

“Winter!” Falina was sullen, and for once I couldn’t blame her. “That’s months from now.”

“Just in time for the snow,” replied Baba. “And don’t we love snow—my pine, my plum, my bamboo?”

At Baba’s calling, my sisters and I bit back further protests. The names were inspired by his favorite painting of three trees covered in snow: Nomi was bamboo, Falina was plum, and I was pine. In spite of the cold, these trees didn’t just survive; they thrived. A way of reminding us to be strong.

“No more long faces,” Baba said. “Only your mother is smiling.”

Mama waselated,which anyone could have guessed from breakfast. Usually our morning fare was watery vegetable broth and burnt rice, but today a feast awaited us. There was fish congee with all the toppings—chives and dried shrimp and salted eggs—and an enormous pan of fried crullers, her specialty. Mama only made crullers when she foresaw good tidings in our future.

“This is the trip that’s going to change everything,” she’d said, dropping a cruller into Nomi’s bowl of congee. “I canfeel it.” After we ate, she gathered us around Baba. “Come, ask your father what presents you’d like him to bring back.”

“Pearls and opals,” Falina blurted, always having to go first. “A new silk dress and matching jacket for every day of the week, and slippers! Embroidered slippers with upturned toe caps.” She paused and glanced at me. “Are you painting this, Tru? I don’t want Baba to forget.”

Fal’s favorite pastime was getting on my nerves. Trying not to roll my eyes, I hovered my brush over the precious sheet of linen parchment I’d saved for today. “Is that all?” I asked, starting a portrait of Falina with opal earrings and a pearled headdress. I was tempted to paint all the dresses tattered and stained but resisted. Least favorite sister or not, it was bad luck to draw unhappy things with my magic paintbrush.

“Add a bronze mirror too,” she said, “like the princesses in Jappor have.”

“How do you know what the princesses in Jappor have?” asked Baba.

“Mama told me.”

“Naturally she did.” Baba exchanged a smile with our mother. “Mirrors are expensive, Falina, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Baba.” Fal kissed him on the cheek. Next came Nomi, whose request was the same each time.

“I should like a sack full of books,” she said in as low and serious a voice as her eight years could manage. “And if you can’t find a dragon, I will settle for a mermaid.”

“One with waves of green hair and a violet tail painted of twilight?” I already knew.

“And pearls underneath her eyes,” added Nomi excitedly. “I read that mermaids cry pearls. The purest pearls in thesea.”

“That sounds painful,” remarked Falina.

“Not if you’re a mermaid,” Nomi said. “It’s as natural as bees making honey.”

While Fal clucked her tongue at our sister’s romantic notions, I humored Nomi and added a dragon and a mermaid to my painting. The paper was getting crowded, thanks to all of Fal’s dresses, but I was rather proud of my dragon. I didn’t know what dragon scales and noses were supposed to look like, so I’d drawn a series of uneven ovals that ended up looking more like teardrops, and a straight and proud nose—the sort Mama said resembled a waterfall of money—and a tail that fanned out like a flame.

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