The Dragon Gods Box Set

by Resa Nelson

“Father!” Sixteen-year-old Ti threw her arms around Emperor Po, who returned her embrace with a smile. Today she wore a loose-fitting satin shirt and pants colored in bright turquoise. “We’ve decided to have a Dragon Mountain tournament today. Come play with us!”

  Emperor Po couldn’t remember the last time he’d played his favorite board game, much less participated in a family tournament. He glanced down the hallway leading to the temple to make sure it was empty before he kissed his daughter’s forehead. The Wulong Province frowned upon affection toward female children, even royal ones. “I just finished my prayers, and I am obligated to spend the rest of the day in court.”

  Easing out of her father’s embrace, Ti made no attempt to hide her disappointment. “I miss you.”

  “And I, you.” Although nothing pleased Emperor Po more than the company of his eldest, he knew well enough to take care in limiting his visits with her. Like all emperors in the Po Dynasty preceding him for a thousand years, he had one wife and many concubines. Therefore, he had a proper royal family, and dozens of children deemed as semi-royal.

  Unlike all but one emperor in recent memory, Emperor Po’s royal family consisted of daughters. He suspected his wife could bear no more children, although he refused to give up hope. Without a proper royal son, the next emperor would be a semi-royal, the eldest son born by a concubine.

  Ti crossed her arms in defiance. “Being emperor is more important to you than your own family!”

  Emperor Po felt his face sag with regret. “I have a duty to our people.”

  “But why do they always have to come first?” Ti’s lower lip quivered briefly. “Always!”

  Hesitating, Emperor Po knew he couldn’t win this argument. Telling Ti about his responsibility to the city and the province would only make her protest about his responsibility to his own family. In truth, he could find no reason to disagree with that protest.

  Remember the Dark and Light. It must be one way or the other. There is no in between.

  “That is the Dark,” Emperor Po told his eldest daughter. “The Dark is the sacrifice my family must make on behalf of the Light that illuminates our people. And because my family is part of my people, the Light also illuminates my family.”

  Ti spoke in a sing-song voice, mimicking her father. “Therein lies the balance between Light and Dark.” She heaved a burdened sigh. “But I don’t care about the Light or the Dark or the balance. Please. Can’t we have some fun today?”

  Any other emperor would have knocked Ti to the ground for her insolence, but Emperor Po knew her words came from a place filled with love and frustration. He held her by the shoulders. “Begin your Dragon Mountain tournament. Play all day. I must go to court now, but when I’m through I will play whoever has won the most. And whichever one of us wins will be today’s Dragon Mountain champion.”

  Ti looked long and hard into his eyes, as black as hers. “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

  “I promise,” Emperor Po said. “When I finish with today’s court, I belong to my family for the rest of today.” He checked the hallway again, relieved to see it still empty. “Now get back to your tournament before anyone sees you.”

  With a solemn nod, Ti obeyed.

  When she had left his sight, Emperor Po strolled down the hallway and exited the palace. He then walked toward the Hall of Justice, a square building on the far side of the walled royal complex. Some days he enjoyed presiding in court because it helped him understand his people. But most days what he saw gave him concern.

  Striding into the large open room at the center of the Hall of Justice, Emperor Po walked past rows of benches facing his throne, a small bench covered in silk cushions and decorated with gold and jade. Talkative people seated on the dozens of long benches facing his throne came to a quick silence and knelt until Emperor Po stood before them.

  Emperor Po announced, “Today’s court may now begin.”

  Most of the complaints laid before him boiled down to petty ones. Small thievery. Disagreements between neighbors. Requests for blessings from neighborhood temples in the city of Zangcheen and its surrounding villages that hadn’t been fulfilled.

  When Emperor Po proclaimed his judgment of each complaint, the injured and accused parties bowed to his decision and exited the court.

  Finally, only one complaint was left to be resolved, even though a few dozen people remained on the benches nearest the throne.

  A middle-aged man wearing a black cotton shirt and pants ran a nervous hand over his shaved head. Stepping forward, he knelt in reverence. “Emperor Po, I come to you on this day of the funeral for my father.”

  Strange. What complaint could a son have on the day he sets his father’s spirit free?

  Instead of asking that question, Emperor Po said, “Continue.”

  “We proceeded with his mortal remains through our streets today. We observed all rites of mourning. We took his body to the Temple of Passing and witnessed its burning.”

  Overwhelmed with emotion, the son wept.

  Emperor Po looked at the people surrounding him. Some bore the same family resemblance, most likely the son’s siblings, mother, aunts, and uncles. A few he guessed to be neighbors or fellow mourners brought as witnesses.

  But witnesses to what? Did someone show disrespect during the procession or the cremation? Has anyone displayed false witness by telling lies about the dead man? Or has his ghost threatened the living?

  “The royal complex offers condolences,” Emperor Po said. “What is your complaint?”

  The son pointed at an older woman, who lifted her chin as if prideful.

  A sense of dread ran through Emperor Po’s bones.

  “That is my mother!” the man said. “She not only refuses to act rightfully as my father’s widow. She speaks of marrying another!”

  Emperor Po gestured toward the prideful-looking woman. “Step forward.”

  She looked to be old enough to be the emperor’s mother, who died many years ago. The widow walked toward him with a strong and steady gait. She wore the appropriate black robes required for widows, but instead of directing her gaze toward the floor, she kept her head up and met the emperor’s stare with dark and alert eyes. When she bowed, the widow refused to look away from the emperor’s face.

  Her son cried out in horror and threw himself on the floor. “Great Emperor! This woman’s manners humiliate us!”

  Although any other emperor in his dynasty would have been offended by the widow’s behavior, Emperor Po respected her for it. At the same time, he felt sickened by what he suspected would happen next.

  Emperor Po raised a hand to gesture for the son to stop.

  The room fell quiet.

  “Is this true?” Emperor Po asked the widow. “Do you fail to follow the widow’s path?”

  “I met my responsibilities,” the widow said. “I dress correctly. I arranged his funeral procession and cremation at the temple today. I displayed my mourning in the most appropriate way. But now I am free of him.”

  The widow’s speech reminded Emperor Po of his own daughter Ti and the willfulness she possessed, seeming to be oblivious to the disaster such an attitude could bring about.

  This is no time for misplaced compassion. The law is the law. It is either dark or light. There is no place for gray.

  The widow’s son gave up on lowering himself to the emperor and climbed to his feet. “She will not maim herself. She will not bear pain for my father!”

  Emperor Po steeled himself. The time had come to be strong and rigid. To the widow, he said, “Show me your arms.”

  Exhibiting no shame, the woman pushed up the sleeves of her robe and exposed her forearms.

  The emperor frowned. “I see no bite marks. No bruises. No cuts. Your skin shows no signs of your devotion to your husband.”

  “I bore him devotion all of my life,” the widow said. Her voice rang loud and strong throughout the room. “I bore his children. I succeeded in all of my duties as his wife.” Witho
ut permission to do so, she let the sleeves fall to cover her naked arms. “And now I’m rid of the brute that ruined my life.”

  Her children shouted their protests until the emperor beckoned for them to stop.

  “Explain,” Emperor Po said.

  “Happily,” the widow answered. “I was a captured bride. The only reason I married him was because I couldn’t outrun him. He knew my family, learned when he could find me alone, and then hunted me down.”

  “Hunted!” another son shouted in protest. “Every man has the right to choose his bride!”

  The widow kept an even temper. “When my husband married me, I had not even come of age to bear children.”

  Emperor Po immediately thought of his daughter Ti and how he would feel if any man did that to her. Being emperor, he would have the right to kill such a man on the spot.

  But this widow, being a mere commoner, had no such right.

  “He never showed a speck of kindness toward me,” the widow continued. “My husband was a hateful man, full of venom. Sometimes he beat me. More than once, I expected to die.” The corners of her mouth turned up in a gentle smile. “But now I am rid of the fiend. Why should I harm myself in his honor? Why shouldn’t I marry a man who shows love instead of wickedness?”

  Everyone in the court knew the answer, but Emperor Po said it to make his judgment official. “Because it is written as law.”

  The expression in the widow’s eyes flickered like the flame of a dying candle. But she kept her smile.

  I take true and correct action. Every emperor’s duty is to uphold and enforce all laws. There are no exemptions. No special cases. All people must be treated duly and accordingly by the laws of the people.

  This is the world in which we live, and it is not my place to question or change it.

  Still, Emperor Po felt a gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

  The son looked at the emperor with hope. “And the punishment?”

  “Per usual, the punishment will take place immediately within one of the justice rooms within this building,” Emperor Po said. “The standard punishment for a widow failing to maim herself in her husband’s honor and also speaking of marrying another is execution. The widow will be placed in a bath of boiling water until she expires.”

  The widow kept her composure and her smile.

  Much in the same way Emperor Po’s mother had responded when he placed the same judgment and punishment upon her after the death of his own father.

  “Thank you, Great Emperor!” the son said with a grin, although the family and friends standing behind him took on expressions so solemn that it seemed as if they hadn’t considered the possible outcome of their actions.

  “As willed by the gods and the laws they put in place for our people,” Emperor Po said. Thankful this complaint ended his day in court, he hurried past the widow, her son, family members, and friends and back outside into the fresh air.

  If the emperor hurried, he could join his family in time to compete in the final round of their Dragon Mountain tournament.

  If the emperor hurried, he would be safely inside the palace walls by the time the bath of water was brought to a boil, and too far away to hear the screams of the widow he had just condemned to death.

  CHAPTER 13

  “GranGran?” Frayka said, staring in surprise at the old woman. “That’s impossible! If my great-grandmother were still alive, she would be ancient!”

  When GranGran laughed, her voice trilled like the songbirds hanging in their cages above. “Not dead! Only ancient!”

  Njall picked up the small cup placed in front of him and downed the tea in one gulp as if it contained strong spirits. Whispering to Frayka, he said, “She’s the best-looking old woman I’ve ever seen.”

  She whispered and nudged him back. “We’ve never met anyone so old before now!”

  “Oh, but it’s terribly true,” TeaTree said. “I became a merchant like my father before me. As a lad, I travelled with him to every land in the known world. I met Madam when I was but a wee little thing, and she’s been ever so kind to me for a good 40 years now. When the world began to fall apart, she warned me.” TeaTree paused and shuddered. “I trod on dangerous ground back then, but I knew when to come back to the safety of Zangcheen thanks to Madam.”

  “How?” Njall said.

  TeaTree gave a warm smile to GranGran. “The portents, of course.”

  “Portents?” Njall said. “But Frayka is the one with portents.” He paused and then lit up with new realization. “Which she inherited from her great-grandmother. This great-grandmother!”

  The unfamiliar sense of uncertainty overwhelmed Frayka. All of her life, she’d felt unique and special among the people of Blackstone. Although she looked nothing like them, no one had ever seemed to notice or care. What truly made her exceptional was the fact that no one else in Blackstone had the ability to read portents. Only Frayka could look into the future and help her people by cautioning them about what she saw.

  She thought her great-grandmother had died long ago. Frayka thought she would never meet anyone else who could read portents.

  Frayka thought she would be extraordinary forever because she could read portents.

  Laughing again, GranGran said, “No worry, Little One.”

  Njall laughed. Turning to Frayka, he said with glee, “She means you! Even though you’re twice her height!” Chortling, Njall said under his breath, “Little One!”

  Before Frayka could blink, she heard the solid rap of GranGran’s cane smacking across Njall’s knuckles.

  “Respect!” GranGran commanded.

  “Yes, M’am,” Njall said. He paled and cradled his injured hand with the good one. “No disrespect intended. I thought it’s funny to call Frayka a little one, that’s all.” He gestured toward the cane in her hand. “How did you do that?” he asked. “The last time I saw your cane, it was leaning in a corner on the other side of the room.”

  Startled by Njall’s observation, Frayka turned to look at where GranGran had left her cane when she went to fetch tea.

  Just as Njall said, the cane no longer stood in the corner of the room. Instead, GranGran balanced it in one hand.

  TeaTree giggled. “Shall I tell them?”

  “No!” GranGran said.

  TeaTree’s mood became somber at once. “I understand, ni shu.” He bowed his head toward GranGran and said, “As you wish, Madam.”

  Following TeaTree’s lead, Njall bowed his head, too.

  Frayka did not. She found her great-grandmother’s manner strange and off-putting. Frayka prided herself on being a Northlander, because she appreciated the nature of her people, who were direct and forthcoming. While her father treated her with love and kindness, he never hesitated to tell her his true thoughts. And her mother always spoke precisely what she had on her mind. Frayka typically didn’t like what her mother said, but at least Frayka knew where her mother stood.

  “You’re the one with the portents,” Frayka said. She sipped her tea. “Did you know I was coming? Did you know where to find me? And when?”

  “You,” GranGran said. “And husband.”

  Njall lit up with happiness. “You know we’re married! We’re family now!” For good measure, he bowed his head again.

  GranGran nodded her approval. “Good husband.”

  Njall beamed. “I’m honored to be your great-grandson by marriage.”

  “So sad,” GranGran said. “Danger.”

  Njall’s joy faded. “Danger? What danger?”

  “Is everyone finished with their tea?” TeaTree said too happily. When he tried to take Frayka’s cup out of her hands, she clamped her fingers around his wrist.

  “Explain,” Frayka said. “About the danger.”

  GranGran slammed her cane down on the tabletop, and Frayka leaned back just in time to avoid being rapped across the knuckles.

  “Respect!” GranGran said. “For elders!”

  Mystified, Frayka said, “All I did was ask
about the danger.”

  The room fell so silent that the twittering of the songbirds in their hanging cages seemed deafening.

  GranGran held onto her cane with hands gone pale from holding on too tight. Her eyes looked dark and angry.

  TeaTree became so still that he might as well have been her shadow.

  Njall stared at his hands.

  Dumbfounded by the lack of response from the others, Frayka turned to her husband, expecting him to side with her. “Njall! Tell them.”

  “You didn’t ask,” he whispered. “You demanded. Everyone back home is used to it, but these people aren’t.”

  GranGran slammed her cane against the tabletop again, making the cups rattle. “Learn respect!”

  “Please understand,” TeaTree said quietly to Frayka, “you are now in a different land with different customs. If you continue to behave as if you are in your own home, you will create problems for yourself and possibly for those around you.”

  Normally, Frayka relied on the portents to guide her. While the portents might not be perfectly accurate in how the future would unfold, the portents were almost always right. Because Frayka trusted the portents, she trusted herself.

  But now Frayka saw she’d done something that troubled everyone around her, including her own husband.

  Is something wrong with me? Must I really change who I am to accommodate these people?

  Frayka shook off a sinking feeling that everyone in this room either didn’t understand her or mistook her intent.

  This is no time to sort out feelings. There is too much to do, and no time to waste. If we don’t make decisions soon, the men who arrested us may find their way here.

  “I apologize, GranGran,” Frayka said. “I meant no harm. I only assumed you talk about danger because you saw danger in a portent. Maybe a portent about me.”

  GranGran studied Frayka for several long moments with narrowed eyes. GranGran grunted and pulled her cane off the table. She then spoke in Far Eastern.

  Frayka and Njall looked at TeaTree to translate.

  Once GranGran finished speaking, TeaTree waited for her nod of approval before he spoke. “Your great-grandmother does not demand respect lightly. Those who have lived fewer years in this world should have the wits to understand that their elders have a greater depth of knowledge. Anyone with any sense will consult their elders, not make demands of them.”