On Certain Spaces

The moonlit path glistened as it meandered along a stream on the palace grounds. Leaves and petals from nearby blossoms lay scattered across the otherwise impeccable surface.

“Wow, this is absolute sparks!” said the foreign princess named Cassia, who was a guest from the mountain realms north of the Kingdom.

Prince Kiro had found her wandering the path during the celebrations in the nearby temple. She came from a small but highly influential clan because of their stonework craftsmanship and aeroponic farming practices. She had a peculiar way of speaking with a lilted accent. He didn’t know what she meant by ‘absolute sparks’ and did not ask her. He had already made the mistake of asking her the meaning of her name, which she said meant ‘She Who Kicks Men’s Rear Ends.’ He wasn’t sure if she was jesting or not. She certainly looked like she could kick a man’s rear, should the occasion warrant it.

“What’s down that way?” she asked while straining to look through the bamboo forest.

“It’s the ceremonial tea house,” he replied. “On special occasions, guests are invited to partake of tea according to tradition."

“Ah yes, I have read about it,” she said. “In the Chronicles of Kingdoms, I believe.”

Kiro looked at her in surprise.

She studied him carefully.

“We are a small clan,” she said, “but we do know how to read, you know.”

Kiro’s face reddened. “My apologies, princess, I meant-”

“I know exactly what you meant,” she said and took a step closer to him with piercing gray eyes locked on his. “We're no stranger to southerners poking fun at us for being simple mountain folk. If you were a Trakkian, I would challenge you to a cliff duel for this insult, but I will forgive you, if you show me the tea house.”

Before he could reply, she headed down the path laughing, her fur-lined gown scattering the petals and the leaves.

“It’s a sanctum of inner purification!” he called out after her.

“I’m even more intrigued then,” she said. "I've been feeling a wee bit impure lately."

He followed her across a weathered but sturdy wooden bridge that arched over the stream. Kings, queens, warriors, sages, and more had walked across the austere structure. Now here he found himself chasing after a wild woman.

He found her in front of the tea house- a small building with high circular windows and no visible door. There was a small round opening low to the ground.

“Is that the doorway? How am I supposed to enter?” she said.

“Just like everybody else,” Kiro told her. “On hands and knees.”

“Hawh! I see,” she replied, her eyes glittering. “Very well. I’m not afraid of getting a little dirty.”

“Speaking of which,” he said and approached a mossy round stone structure from which crystal clear water spilled into a receiving fountain. He scooped water with both hands. “First, we must cleanse ourselves.”

He removed his footwear and washed his hands and feet. Then he scooped more water, sipped, and spat on the ground. Finally, he washed his face while a gentle breeze cooled his skin.

When he opened his eyes, Cassia was nowhere to be seen.

He stood in front of the entrance listening, and hearing noises coming from inside, he knelt and crawled on all fours.

The mountain princess stood in the middle of the room looking around her.

“It’s so… rustic,” she said. “And those slanted windows are so high but very useful to let the moonlight into the room.”

“It's an old place that wears well the passage of time,” he said.

The tea house was at least 300 summers old, built in the era of the First Kingdom, though the windows were added later.

“Why is there only one flower?” she asked him and pointed at the flower in the vase that rested on top of a small cabinet.

“We prefer simplicity,” he said and approached the violet orchid. “Legend says that an old king wanted to decorate his room to impress his important guests. The ceremony was used to create bonds among the rulers at the time. Upon entering the room, the king found that his newly appointed Master of Harmony had placed a single flower on the banister instead of the usual floral arrangements. The king was enraged at his impudence, but his guests were transfixed by the single flower that somehow filled them with a deep awe. The Master brewed the tea with skill, and the guests were very much impressed. After the ceremony, an important treaty was signed without much trouble, and the king learned a valuable lesson on the meaning of spontaneity in action. Since then, a single flower is the only decoration in the room.”

“What happened to the Master of Harmony? Did he get a handsome reward for his creative service?” she asked him.

“Nobody knows what happened to him,” said Kiro pensively. “He brewed the tea and afterwards, the chronicles never mention him again. Though some believe he became a secret confidant and advisor to the king.”

“How curious, yah” said Cassia. “It must’ve been really good tea. Haha! I hear that you use only the best herbal concoctions for it.” She looked around as if an idea had suddenly occurred to her. “Where do you keep the leaves? Over there?”

He moved to intercept her before she opened the cabinet with the flower on top. “The ceremony is extremely complex and takes time to prepare.”

She smiled at his quickness, as if she had underestimated him.

“Why don’t you just brew me a small cup then?” she said, and seeing his hesitation, she added, “I would love to learn more about the ways of your people, and besides, I still haven’t forgiven you for calling me an ignorant mountain goat.”

“I never did such thing,” he said, “but fine. I will brew you a cup of tea.”

This woman was so brash in her machinations and had no sense of subtleness, Kiro thought. She wasn't bashful and playful like women in his kingdom but was direct and demanding with a quick sharp wit. She did not ebb and flow with the sensuous energy of the moment but raced through it like a lioness in heat. It was as unsettling as it was intriguing.

He retrieved the instruments for the tea preparation. Not following the formal rules made him uneasy. There was a prescribed way in which each instrument should be handled: kettle, cups, spoons, herbs, and so on. Every movement was as delicate as a dance or the procession of the stars, precisely controlled in motion and deed. An apprentice could reach a ripe old age and still be merely a student of the art.

There was little furniture in the room, aside from a low table near the window. There were no chairs, but she noticed several cushions under the table. She pulled them out and ran her calloused hands over the luxurious material, embroidered with radiant pink blossoms and long-feathered birds.

Kiro busied himself with the preparation.

“You seem very skillful at it,” she said looking at his nimble fingers.

“I have trained with the master himself, but I’m afraid I still have much to learn.”

He grabbed a small bowl and briefly stepped out of the cabin. He returned with the bowl full of water.

With flint and steel, Kiro lit a fire in a sandy pit near the table. It radiated a wonderful warmth. He then took an old misshapen kettle, filled it with water, and placed it on top of the dancing flames.

Cassia sat on a cushion and wiggled her fingers in front of the fire.

“Do you have a wife?” she asked him matter-of-factly. “Or wives perhaps?”

He coughed and didn’t know what to say for a moment.

“The Imperial Council hasn’t chosen my Circle Maiden, the one who completes me.”

She made a snorting sound.

“You do not approve of our ways,” he said.

“I just don’t see how you can let others choose a woman for you,” she said. “You are a man! How could you spend the rest of your life with a stranger chosen for you. At least, you should give her a try before the wedding, don’t you think?”

“I do not,” he said. “A Circle Maiden should be pure for the Kingdom.”

“And does the groom have to be pure?”

Thankfully for him, the water began to bubble, and he quietly proceeded with the tea preparation.

Meticulously, he washed and dried the cups, placing each before the guest, who watched with fascination as he proceeded to mix various herbs and powders into one of the cups. The cup itself was a simple black vessel with pink blossoms painted on its surface, as if scattered by a breeze.

Kiro added warm water and carefully mixed the ingredients until they created a beautiful even foam on the surface of the liquid. There were other steps in the procedure, but as this was an informal presentation, he omitted the more complex ceremonial parts.

He tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the cup and holding it with two hands, he handed it to Cassia.

She reached up with her right hand and cradled the cup with her palm. She paused and gripped the cup to feel its warmth, then raising her left hand, she stabilized it. Slightly bowing her head at him, she raised the cup to her lips.

She closed her eyes and drank.

Kiro held his breath.

“The guest rejoices at this precious gift,” said Cassia, remembering the words from the Chronicles. “May the starlight shine forever and guide you home.”

His eyes widened upon hearing these archaic words uttered by this foreign woman. They were no longer used in present day ceremonies.

He bowed to her solemnly.

As she brought the cup up to her nose, she smelled the faint aroma of summer rain and felt the tickling sensations of bursting air bubbles. Surprisingly, a fragrant taste and aroma filled her mouth. Thoughts of summer meadows filled her mind. She groaned with pleasure and drank until the very last drop.

“I feel so invigorated,” she said. “As if I have suddenly awakened from a foggy dream.”

“The Master has taught me to combine the herbs to elicit different effects for different seasons.”

“Remarkable,” she said and stood up. "It is now my turn to brew you a cup."

“Ah!” he exclaimed. Women were not allowed to brew tea in his kingdom, but he wasn't about to tell her so.

She knelt beside the fire and tied up her hair with a furry cord. Her neck looked soft and pale in the fire light.

She took the brewing instruments as if they were working tools. In her mountainous realm, even nobility had to work the mines and farm terraces. Though she handled the utensils without too much ceremonial grace, there was an efficiency and economy of action in the way she went about preparing the tea. She mixed the powders in cold water instead of warm, resembling a procedure that fell in disuse long ago.

Reaching around her neck, she unclasped a braided necklace with a finger-long shimmering crystal held by greenstone claws. She removed the claws from the crystal, revealing a gold plated cavity in the cylinder, which she tipped over the cup.

A glittery powder fell into the mix.

“What is it?” he asked her.

She smiled. “It’s tea from the Karolis mountains,” she said proudly. “The most precious air-grown tea in the northern realm.”

After adding a bit of lukewarm water and sloshing it around in a circular motion, she raised the cup above him with one hand.

He reached up for it, but she did not offer it to him.

“Open your mouth,” she told him.

“My mouth?”

“Very wide,” she said, and with a handful of his hair in the grip of her free hand, she pulled his head back.

At being so unceremoniously handled, he instinctively opened his mouth like a pup.

She poured and splashed the concoction in his mouth.

“Yaah!” she said raising her fist and howling like a wolf.

The light in the room seemed to brighten. Strange shadows danced on the floor.

Her hair came undone, and she whipped it around. How stunningly beautiful she looked in the silver light, laughing with abandon, her speckled gray eyes glowing like precious stones.

Her howls echoed in his head. They permeated everything. He looked up at the windows and saw streams of moonlight cascading into the room.

The flower in the vase on the other side of the room looked so small. The room so comically empty and large.

He laughed.

Cassia laughed along with him.

“Close your eyes," she told him, "and tell me what you see.”

He did so, and the light behind his eyelids flickered.

“I hear... water.”

Surprised by the sound, he opened his eyes and was astonished to find himself at the foot of the bridge crossing the gurgling stream.

Cassia laughed beside him. “Is something wrong?”

“How did we get here?”

“Just like everybody else” she said. “On hands and knees.”

A fish broke through the surface, its body twisting in the air, each droplet glistening as the creature glided over the bridge, arching swiftly towards the other side of the stream, where it fell with a deep and sonorous splash.

It was impossibly beautiful, like a live and richly detailed painting on a real-world canvass.

He shook his head and laughed with glee. He couldn’t wait to tell the Master of Harmony himself. At the heart of the ceremony was the imperfection of things carved by the winds of time. The spontaneous one. Yet, across the ages, the ritual had been chiseled into a strict humourless procedure frozen in the ebb and flow like a giant boulder of ice. Now this stranger, this barbarian mountain woman had arrived with her idiosyncrasies and her airy herbs to show him just how far the Masters had strayed from the spirit of the rite.

“Shall we rejoin the celebrations?” she asked him.

“Allow me, princess, to show you one more sight,” he said. “The Queen’s private gardens. It’s not far from here.”

“I would be enchanted,” she said, and then as if suddenly remembering, she curtsied and gave a slight nod.

The trees rustled as an evening breeze scattered the rosy petals across the path.

Image generated by @litguru using Generative Art software