이무기의 복 (Mourning Bride)

6. The Alliance with the Shaman

Seonghwa's bamboo branch tapped against the wooden plane covered by a sheet of paper. The delicate symbols painted in calligraphy sharpened with San's focus on them. The strokes of the brush drawing them had seemed to sing as they created words out of single characters in the form of pictures. If San concentrated, he could see them take shape and come to life to tell their story and meaning.

They had skipped the novice lessons. Seonghwa had tested San on his knowledge and found that San was brilliant in many old scriptures that told Joseon's history. He had adjusted their level, and now they read complicated classics from the Han kingdom that told the root tales of the dragon kings in their original language. San found the Han scriptures came to life clearer the further back they went in time to study them. It was like looking at pictures.

"The radical is the same. Now, continue." Seonghwa beckoned at the text San was transcribing into easier written language by his side. Understanding the correct meaning of countless symbols was difficult for Seonghwa, so he used a book, but the mind of a dragon was profound and old. San may be a juvenile still, but he had learned and watched this world grow for many centuries.

San delved into writing again. Seonghwa had handed him a brush engraved with golden lettering that called it a 'Crafter of Fantasy' with white ferret hair stained in black ink. San had rolled back his sleeve and grasped the brush with as much grace as possible as he led it over the paper. Seonghwa did the same on his table, only that he could hold the brush tucked much more skilfully between his thumb and index finger.

"Part of the speech you will be asked to read on the day of Hangawi is this scripture that got handed down by scholars since the first dragon arrived in this world. Another part will be your own. So we can hand it down and sustain it for the five hundred years of your blessing that you won't spend here, you will be required to write it in the same style." Seonghwa dipped his brush in the ink and held his sleeve with his left hand while his right guided the utensil. His hand was calm and didn't tremor as he added the smallest of strokes to the intricate character.

San shifted in his seat. His lower back hurt depending on how he knelt, so his heels did a regular dance at easing the dull throbbing. The pillow under his knees was soft, but it wasn't thick enough to separate his pain from the hardness of the floor.

"I will pick out the book of previous speeches for you later so you may inspire yourself by the length and choice of words. What you tell is your decision, but be aware that your words will be spread throughout the lands and passed on through history, so you would be wise not to waste them."

Seonghwa spoke without looking up. His long lashes fanned over his cheeks as he concentrated on his paper. Blossom-like lips parted around his quiet words, since they were the only ones in the room.

It was a warm day. The birds sung outside, and the sun caressed the earth with its golden rays. Seonghwa had opened the window earlier to let in the spring breeze, and San caught himself staring outside of it yearningly every so often.

San looked at his paper again. An earring dangled from Seonghwa's left ear. It was a golden ring with a pearl on it that matched the necklaces wrapping around the man's neck. Compared to other men at the court, Seonghwa wore a lot of jewellery, but it was natural. He knew of the properties of precious minerals and wore them for their effect on his spirit. Pearls were water-born, so they created a welcoming connection to San's water-born nature. San believed they also spread attentiveness. Whenever he looked at Seonghwa, his eyes were drawn to them, hugging his throat or dangling from his ear under the swoop of his pink hair.

They also matched the rest of him. Including the uncanny, but oddly fitting, norigae. San's eyes dropped from Seonghwa back to his paper. Nobody but them sat in the large study hall that offered seats for twenty students. Seonghwa sat at the elevated seat of the teacher, and San knelt in front of him at the very first table to work on his writing. Both of them had their projects spread out on the ground around them.