At one time, people would tell of a treasure in an underground cave, guarded by a dragon. It was said that the dragon could see into the souls of men and women, and any who sought the treasure would be turned away if they were not pure of heart.
In a village not too distant, there was a widowed farmer who fell suddenly ill with a rare ailment. It was known that the cure could be bought in the capital city, but he lacked the funds. His three unmarried daughters, with little recourse, decided they would seek the treasure. They were good-natured girls, liked by all in the village; and what motive could be purer than the life of a father?
First to go was the eldest sister, known in the village for her cleverness.
She journeyed five days and five nights until she reached the mouth of the cave. Entering the cave, she descended further and further into darkness. She leapt across a freezing river, praying not to fall in. She crawled through narrow tunnels and was beset by bats and spiders. Finally she reached the lair of the dragon.
“Why do you seek this treasure, child?” asked the dragon.
“My father is dying, and I wish to save his life,” replied the eldest sister.
“Ah, but is that the only reason?” asked the dragon.
The eldest sister hesitated for a moment before replying, “Yes.”
The dragon looked into her eyes, and as it did she got the feeling that it was looking through her, deep into her soul. After a minute it spoke.
“You have always been called clever, but you have always been uneasy about it,” the dragon pronounced. “You think that people expect great achievements from you, but in truth you have no original ideas, and lack the drive to make your mark on the world. You fear you are capable of nothing more than being an average farmer’s wife. If you bring back this treasure, you will be remembered for your deed. You seek this treasure out of fear and need for the approval of others.”
As she listened, the eldest sister’s stomach dropped, for the dragon had indeed seen truly. It saw her as she was, fearful and self-doubting. She returned home empty-handed, and told no one of what had transpired, only that she had failed the test of the dragon.
Second to go was the middle sister, known for her beauty. She took the same journey as the eldest sister, and again was asked the same questions, and again looked into the eyes of the dragon.
“Though you catch the eye of nearly all the men in your village, there is only one you care for: the blacksmith. He broke your heart when last year he married the butcher’s daughter, a girl of far less beauty than you. Though you know he can never be yours, you still ask yourself daily what it is he saw in her but not you, ignoring the easy temper and liveliness that make her a perfect match for him. You hope by bringing back this treasure he will see that you are more than a pretty face, that you are strong and brave and good, and that he will regret his choice of wife. You seek this treasure out of jealousy, and a vindictive desire to prove him wrong.”
The middle sister knew that the dragon had judged her truly. As her elder sister did, she returned home without the treasure and told no one what had passed between her and the dragon.
Last was the youngest sister. She had neither the cleverness of the first sister nor the beauty of the second. What interested her was the ways of men and women.
As such, she spent much of her time listening to the gossip of the village, sitting with the old women as they spun wool, or bringing lunch out to the farmers and lingering to hear their talk. What interested her was not the gossip, but how people told it. And what she learned was that no two people ever agreed on how the gossip should be told.
There was a young man in the village who had broken many a heart. No one disagreed on the facts of the matter, but still they argued over him. Some said that he was a seducer, taking advantage of the naivety of young women. Others said that he was merely unlucky, and that though he told women clearly he was far from seeking a wife, they fell in love with him anyway.
The carpenter in the village had recently died. In his place his wife had taken over his shop, and caused a stir with her sharp tongue and tightfisted nature. Some said she was bad-tempered and bitter, and a stain on the village if they had no carpenter who would extend credit. Others said she had to be strict to make her voice heard at all as a woman in a man’s profession, and she was grieving her husband besides.
The tanner had just taken an apprentice, and was unhappy with his work and beat him. Some said the boy was lazy, and shirked his duties whenever he could. Others said he had a good heart and free spirit, and the tanner was cruel to beat him for being carefree and easily distracted.
With these tales, and many more in her head, the youngest sister set off for the cave. She had watched her two sisters come back, and seen the shame in their eyes as they refused to speak of what they had been through. She did not believe she was purer of heart than they. But she guessed she might know more of souls, and thus be more prepared to face the dragon.
She journeyed five days and five nights, and braved the dangers of the cave, until finally she reached the dragon’s lair.
“Why do you seek this treasure, child?” asked the dragon.
“My father is dying, and I wish to save his life,” replied the youngest sister.
“Ah, but is that the only reason?” asked the dragon.
The youngest sister felt a twinge of fear. But she looked into the dragon’s eyes, and knew what she had to do.
“I know you have a story about me in which I am weak, and selfish, and pathetic,” she said. “But I am not afraid, for a story is just a story. About everyone there are a thousand stories told, and a thousand thousand more that could be. All of them are true, and yet none of them are true.
What you call a soul is just a story, no more true than any other. If you look inside me you will find flesh, and blood, and bone, and memories, and fears, and desires. But nowhere will you find my soul.”
The dragon knew in an instant that its powers would not work on her. As it handed her a chest overflowing with treasure, the youngest sister felt a momentary pang of gratitude for this wise creature, pushing those it encountered to confront the darkness within themselves. She also felt a flash of contempt for a greedy old monster, hoarding its treasure and leaving people hurt and broken.
On her way home, she stopped at the capital city to buy the cure for her father, and within a fortnight he was as well as ever. The rest of the treasure she spent on farm equipment for all in the village, and it was a time of rejoicing and plenty. The dragon was never heard from again.