23

Harmony, good fortune, and, above all, fertility are the unicorn’s gifts. Easily able to outrun its pursuer and avoid net, trap, or arrow, the unicorn will come tamely from the deepest forests to rest its horned head on a virgin’s lap. Though neither man nor woman, I am a virgin of sorts. In my heart most of all. If the unicorn judges me unworthy, let his horn enter my navel and rip its way to that heart. Or let it rest its head in my lap and make me as I once was. Removing my garments, I reveal my scar. All day I wait, watching but seeing nothing. At twilight the rustling begins, close to me on one side and then the other, circling, coming closer until the darkness brings the moon and stars quivering above me.

From the log of Cheng Ho, admiral of the western seas, voyage of the fifth armada