The White Eyebrow of the Mountain Lord
"That's right, I got caught red-handed. Tears just welled right up. Aigoo, I'd dreamed the night before of digging up a thousand-year-old wild ginseng, and now it looked certain I'd be dragged off to die for it. So what did I do? I groveled. I told him I was all alone, caring for my aged mother, and that I'd been searching for ginseng and gathering firewood all to nurse her back to health."
"Was your mother even real back then?"
Someone shouted it out, and the crowd snickered.
The man in the mulberry hat glared.
"Now hold on—are you saying I'm some motherless wretch?"
The laughter rose even louder.
Even Hong-wi let a faint smile cross his face.
"Well, truth be told, she had to exist whether she did or not. Put yourself in my shoes—you've got the Lord of the Mountain standing right in front of you. What can you do? Stay alive first, figure the rest out later. So I bowed and scraped till my hands wore out from it. 'I deserve to die for my crime,' I said, 'but if I go, my poor mother's done for too. Spare me just this once, I beg you.'"
"And then? What did he say?"
"The Mountain Lord let out a long sigh and said, 'Very well. Trespassing on my domain deserves punishment, but your filial devotion is commendable, so I shall spare you this once.'"
"That tracks! They do say the Lord of the Mountain's a soft touch for a filial son!"
"Sure, sure. But then I got to thinking—and realized I was getting the short end of the stick."
"Losing out? Losing out on what?"
"Ah, think about it. I make my living in the mountains—gathering pine nuts, mushrooms, wild ginseng, cutting pine resin—and it barely keeps my belly full as it is. If I can't do that anymore, what am I supposed to eat? So I grabbed hold of the Mountain Lord as he was turning to leave and clung on again."
"Good grief, would you look at the gall on this fellow."
"So there I was, weeping and wailing, hanging off him for the longest time. And finally the Mountain Lord clicked his tongue and said—and I quote—'That one's truly filial, but what a chatterbox of a nuisance.'"
"Ha! The Mountain Lord's got a good eye for reading people!"
"Doesn't he just? As you can see, I've got no other talents, but my gift for gab reaches clean up to heaven. Anyway, at that point the Mountain Lord plucked out a single white hair from his own eyebrow and said, 'I shall grant you one special means of earning your keep,' and pressed this into my hand."
With that, the man in the mulberry hat pointed to his right eyebrow.
The crowd went quiet.
"What do you mean, an eyebrow?"
"Look closely. See the white hair right there?"
At those words, the curious came crowding in from all sides to peer at the spot he indicated.
"Well, I'll be—he really does have one."
"I thought the same thing at first. 'My Lord of the Mountain, whatever use could this eyebrow possibly serve?' I said. And he answered, 'You'll find its purpose when the time comes.' Then a whirlwind rose up all at once, whipped up into the air and back down again, and I blacked out clean. When I came to, it was morning already. And so this white hair is what I was given."
"So what does that white hair actually do?"
When someone shouted that, the man in the mulberry hat looked exasperated.
"Good grief, people—have you been listening to me at all? I said I'd tell you how I came to tell fortunes in the first place."
"So this white hair is the source of your fortune-telling power?"
"You'd better believe it. Ever since this hair took root and stuck itself here, the world looks different to me, doesn't it just?"
"Different how?"
"I can sometimes guess a person's past life, see how their luck and lot will run while they live—and even how things will go for them in the world to come, once they've crossed over. It shines that clear, I tell you."
The crowd fell silent.
"Truly?"
"Why would I lie? Go on then—pick one, and I'll read it."
The man in the mulberry hat cried out with confidence.
Just then the old innkeeper came out holding a resin torch and called to the crowd.
"It's gone dark now, so head home. This fellow's staying on till the day after tomorrow, so come back tomorrow morning and you can hear more—"
Only then did the crowd realize the sky had turned black, and they were startled.
It really was time to go in.
Scratching the backs of their heads, people began to disperse.
The two men who had been sitting with the innkeeper a short while ago also rose from their seats.
Their sharp eyes swept the surroundings.
Ho-in turned to Hong-wi.
"Could that story really be true?"
Hong-wi laughed out loud.
To think Ho-in—two years his senior, no less—could believe every word of a peddler's tale. There was a quiet, artless streak beneath that man's rough exterior.
"It's just talk to draw a crowd. Don't put any stock in it. There's a reason the Confucians call all such yin-yang divination the stuff of strange powers and chaos. Anyone who practices the craft dazzles you with flashy eloquence, scatters your thoughts, and keeps glancing sideways at your face and reactions to gauge where your strengths and weaknesses lie. That's how they bewitch you. All this talk of Mountain Lords and magic eyebrows is sleight of hand meant to hoodwink the gullible."
Hong-wi's words were impeccably logical, flowing as smoothly as running water.
Ho-in nodded.
"Now that you put it that way, you're right."
"No need to fret over every idle claim a wandering storyteller tosses out."
Ho-in kept nodding, his face flushing red.
Though he had trained in the martial arts as a scion of a noble house, he had at least read his books too—and being taken in by a charlatan's patter evidently shamed him.
That was when it happened.
"A wandering storyteller, you say."
"Wha—!"
At some point the man in the mulberry hat had come right up beside them.
Ho-in jumped, then immediately turned scarlet.
When had this man approached without a single sound?
"Forgive my eavesdropping."
"No—we should apologize!"
The man in the mulberry hat nimbly stepped back.
"You're quite right, young master. Truth is, without this gift of gab, a man like me would hardly keep himself fed."
"Well, at least that talent of yours is genuinely impressive."
Hong-wi answered gravely.
"But I doubt we have anything you'd care to sell to."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that."
The man's eyes glinted.
"Not men who might settle a bill in silver crumbs, are you?"
Ho-in tensed.
How had this man known that?
Whether he'd caught on or not, the peddler gave a knowing wink.
"Be more careful next time. There are ruffians everywhere."
"We can manage that much on our own."
Ho-in said curtly.
The man in the mulberry hat shook his head.
"I don't think you can. Truthfully, yes—the fortune-telling hair was a lie, as you suspect. But even so, I can see a short distance into what's coming."
"Is that so?"
Hong-wi replied flatly.
The man in the mulberry hat gave a sly grin.
"Ordinarily I'd expect at least a measure of rice for this, but for you two, I'll tell you for nothing. And you'd best heed it. If you stay as you are, neither of you will live to see tomorrow's sunrise."
Silence settled over them.
At length, Hong-wi spoke.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what I said. You made it safely from Yeongwol all the way here. Coming to this tavern was a wise move as well. But carelessly drawing out those silver crumbs—that was your mistake. In times like these, a stranger's face alone is enough to draw eager eyes."
There was no trace of a smile left on the man's face in the dim light—nothing but utter seriousness.
"You—"
"Shh."
He pressed a finger to his lips.
"Say no more! Even a mouse's ears are open at night. But it's true—your Highness's life hangs by a thread. Did you mark those two men who sat with the innkeeper just now? Did you see the way they walked when they left?"
Hong-wi nodded.
"Beyond a doubt, men trained by the Naegeumwi. They have that unmistakable cadence to their stride."
"Did they make us?"
"They can't be certain yet. But they'll be thinking they ought to seize you and interrogate you. And if they do even that much, your identity will come spilling out."
"Then they could descend on us at any moment?"
Ho-in scanned the surroundings anxiously.
The man in the mulberry hat laughed.
"Not yet—they haven't confirmed anything. Their backing may be solid, but manhandling innocent commoners into custody is ugly business, even for them. More than anything, they're greedy for the credit. They won't want to split the prize with some provincial-bureau underlings."
"Then what will they do?"
"They'll bring a force in the dead of night to take your Highness and your party."
The man's words came without a moment's hesitation.
Hong-wi frowned. Just as he had herded the tavern crowd along a short while ago, this man in the mulberry hat had, in mere moments, steered both Hong-wi and Ho-in exactly where he wanted them.
"I take your meaning, but for my part, I can't even trust what you're saying."
"Excellent."
The man grinned.
"You must trust no one. Suyang's spies are planted even here."
"Then do you have proof that you're worthy of trust?"
"Nothing of the sort."
The man paused.
"But I do have something I was told to pass along. Say this to your Highness and he'll understand."
"What is it?"
"'The state's policy rests on the northern frontier.'"
Hong-wi's eyebrow twitched.
The man chuckled.
"Ah, that lands, does it? Then might your Highness be Jeong Ho-chan of the Dongrae Jeong clan?"
"The very same. Come to think of it, I never gave my name. My family name is Cha, and my given name is Gyeong-yeon."
Cha Gyeong-yeon turned back to the two men with a grave expression.
"In any case, you must leave here quickly. By tomorrow morning, this place will be a pot come to a boil."
Hong-wi nodded.
He could not yet place his full trust in this Cha Gyeong-yeon—but there was no other course open to him.
Ho-in looked back at the man uneasily.
Before long, Hong-wi made up his mind.
"Very well. What do you propose?"
"First—have you settled on the northern frontier as your destination?"
At Cha Gyeong-yeon's question, Hong-wi nodded.
"If that is to be where I live—yes."
"Then the road for the next few days is fixed. Follow the outer slopes of Chiaksan northward and you'll reach Hoengseong County, where you must cross the upper reaches of the Seom River. Beyond that, the path forks. There are two main routes."
Cha Gyeong-yeon drew a map on the ground with his finger as he explained.
"The first is to cut east and cross over the Seorak and Geumgang ranges, heading north through the mountains."
"Mountain trails, then."
Hong-wi murmured.
"Not just any mountains—a chain of the harshest ranges there are. Aside from a tiny handful of hermit-gatherers and hunters, no one has ever forced a passage through them. The trouble is, barely two months remain before winter, and winter comes early to the high country. Provisions are another matter. You'll have to travel on foot, and to keep your strength up you must eat heavily—but food is hard to come by on a winter mountain."
The two men thought back on the road they had already walked from Yeongwol to this place, and their spirits sank.
"Then tell me the second way."
"Go west from here, cross the Han River, pass through Gapyeong, and make for Yangju. From there, take the Uiju Road. If Hamgil Province is your goal, you branch off at Yeongbyeon and slip through Eocheon-do."
As he spoke, Cha Gyeong-yeon allowed himself a faint smile.
He could see, now, what Jeong Ho-chan had foreseen years ago when he insisted this road be opened.
Hong-wi, for his part, stared, mouth agape.
"The highway? On foot, you mean?"
"What, is a good road worse than a mountain trail?"
Ho-in made no effort to hide his disbelief at the retort.
"That's not the point. How in the world are we supposed to just stroll down a public road in the open?"
In the next moment, Cha Gyeong-yeon's brisk answer left the both of them utterly dumbfounded.
"We won't be walking. What did you think I meant?"
"They've stabled their horses at the edge of the village. The men remaining in Wonju number three, by my count, though I can't say how many more will arrive before dawn. My guess is at least twenty—but they can't be certain of your Highness's identity yet, so they won't all come."
Cha Gyeong-yeon explained as they slipped out into an alley.
Though he had entered Wonju disguised as a peddler, he had been keeping watch over Suyang's remaining spies the whole time.
According to him, two of them were still inside the tavern, and one more was lurking near the edge of the town.
A chill crawled over Hong-wi and Ho-in.
Looking back on it, their safe arrival here had been nothing short of a miracle.
Ho-in asked,
"Then shouldn't we be getting out right now?"
"I don't know where they've hidden their horses. They wouldn't have stabled them at the provincial bureau, so they must be stashed somewhere near the edge of town—that much I can guess. And that's exactly what we're going to find out now."
The three of them hid in the shadow of an alley and waited without a word.
Two men appeared from the direction of the village.
It was too dark to make out their faces, but Hong-wi guessed they were the ones who had been drinking with the innkeeper.
A sharp whistle cut the air, and one of the men emerged from a shaded spot.
The two were muttering something to each other.
After a while, both retraced their steps toward the tavern.
The third man began walking down toward the edge of the village.
Cha Gyeong-yeon whispered,
"We follow him. He's headed for wherever they've hidden the horses."
They trailed him through the darkness like cats.
Ho-in couldn't hold back and whispered,
"If not to the provincial bureau, where would they be going to call for reinforcements?"
Cha Gyeong-yeon hastily brought the group to a halt and pressed a finger to his lips.
The man walking ahead had stopped and whipped his head around.
He stared into the alleyway with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
In the next instant, Cha Gyeong-yeon let out a cat's cry.
Miraculously, it sounded exactly like a real cat's yowl.
"...Hm."
The tension drained from the man's shoulders. Even so, he kept his ears pricked for several long minutes before finally turning away.
"Quiet. You might as well shout your position to the whole town—your footsteps were too loud as it was. That fool was merely careless, that's all."
Cha Gyeong-yeon chided him.
Ho-in, pale and shaken, could only nod.
"To answer your question—I don't know either. They won't go as far as Yeongwol. It's a full day's journey even at a hard pace, and those men plan to storm your lodgings before dawn."
"Not tonight, then?"
Hong-wi asked in little more than a whisper.
Cha Gyeong-yeon shook his head.
"Unlikely. They won't want to raise a racket, and abducting two men quietly requires a few more hands. They never imagined your party would make it as far as Wonju, so they're probably staging somewhere between here and Yeongwol. Wait—the fool's looking back again."
Just as Cha Gyeong-yeon said, the man—thanks to his own carelessness—failed to notice that Hong-wi's party was shadowing him.
He slipped quietly through a gap in a crumbling earthen wall and made straight for a quiet stretch of roadside.
In the distance came the whinny of horses.
A smile crept across Cha Gyeong-yeon's lips.
"Hold fast."
He warned Ho-in.
"I said three men, but that's only my guess. There could be more. Either way—I'll take this one."
Hong-wi and Ho-in waited behind.
The man headed straight for where the horses were tied.
There were three of them.
So Cha Gyeong-yeon's count of the men in Wonju had been right after all.
The man moved to mount his own horse—and then, for an instant, froze.
The next moment, he dropped low and drew his blade.
"...What—?"
The man looked behind him, saw no one, and his face twisted in confusion.
He was certain he had sensed something. He was tilting his head, about to slide the drawn blade back into its sheath—