The vast blackness surrounded her.
It made her feel as small as an ant,
and sucked away her daytime confidence.
The next morning, Ping unloaded all the baggage from the carriage.
“What are you doing, Ping?” the Emperor asked.
He was still pale, still far too weak to stand, but his eyes were clear and bright.
“You need to be in the care of physicians. The soldiers must take you to Beibai Palace.”
“I don’t know if I will be welcome there,” he said.
“Your sister will receive you with open arms.”
“Won’t you come with me?” he asked.
“There isn’t enough room for us all. Kai and I will wait here until the soldiers return, then we will continue on our journey.”
“Where are you going?”
“We’re going to a place where no one can find us.”
“Where is this place?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ll never trust me, will you?”
“It’s not a matter of trust. I really don’t know where we’re going. Danzi sent me a map, but it isn’t clear.”
“Show me, I might be able to help.”
“I can read now, Liu Che, I don’t need your help.”
Ping felt a slight tug at her waist. She turned and discovered Kai pulling the silk square from her pouch.
“Kai!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?”
She snatched the silk square back.
“Kai trusts me, even if you don’t,” the Emperor said.
“Lu-lu might know where Dragon’s Lament Creek is.”
“He doesn’t know every place in the Empire,” Ping hissed at the dragon. “And I don’t want him to know we’re looking for Long Dao Xi.” She stopped abruptly. She had been speaking aloud.
“What did you say?” Liu Che asked. “You’re taking Kai to a robber’s ravine?”
Ping was relieved he’d misheard. “No, I told you, I don’t know where we’re going exactly.”
The Emperor sighed. The soldiers lifted him into the carriage.
“There’s one more thing I have to ask you, Liu Che.”
The Emperor turned his head towards her.
“What happened to Jun?”
“Who?”
“The boy who was pretending to be a Dragonkeeper. The one who you made Imperial Dragonkeeper when you imprisoned me.” Ping waited for anger to bubble up inside her again, but it didn’t.
The Emperor didn’t answer straightaway. He swallowed. “I don’t know.”
“You didn’t have him executed?”
“No, but I can’t remember what happened to him. I’m sorry, Ping.”
The horses were harnessed to the carriage. The driver took his seat.
“I owe my life to you,” the Emperor said.
Kai bounded up to say goodbye.
“I wish you well on your journey, Kai, wherever it is you’re going. I will issue a decree forbidding dragon hunting anywhere in the Empire.”
Kai made his tinkling wind-chime sound.
“May Heaven protect you both,” the Emperor said.
Under the cuts and bruises, Ping could see the handsome face of her friend again.
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“I’m glad we met again,” she said.
One of the soldiers shut the carriage door.
“Drive slowly,” Ping said to the driver. “And take the smoothest way, not the quickest.”
She waved goodbye.
“Bye bye, Lu-lu,” Kai said sadly.
Ping watched the carriage slowly trundle away until it disappeared from sight. Kai was busy chasing butterflies, jumping over rocks and pouncing on tussocks of grass. She smiled. It was good to see him carefree and with space to play. She remembered the second line of her divination. A dragon in the fields. It is advantageous to meet the great man.
There was Kai chasing butterflies in the field. They had met a great man—the most powerful man in the Empire. It had certainly been an advantageous meeting for him. He would have died if Kai hadn’t found him. If he did keep his promise and concentrated on ruling well, then it would be advantageous for the whole Empire. But the meeting had also been good for Ping. The anger and hatred had left her. Such bitter feelings could poison like dirt in a wound. It was good to be rid of them. A shard of dragon stone had been returned to her as well. It had proved useful before, strengthening her second sight. It might well be useful again. The soldiers had left too. Perhaps that was also a good thing.
The pile of baggage and the colourful tent looked out of place on the bleak plain as if they had dropped unexpectedly from the sky. There were six baskets of food, a chest of clothing, several large jars of wine, rugs, cushions and cooking pots. It was a ridiculous mound of baggage for one girl and one small dragon. Ping started unpacking. From her clothing chest, she pulled out another pair of shoes, some socks, a jacket and a pair of trousers. From the basket of cooking equipment, she retrieved a small pot, a pair of chopsticks, a cup and two bowls. From the food supplies, she took bags of grain and lentils, some dried beancurd, a jar of plum sauce, dried fruit, nuts, and powdered ginger for flavouring hot water. She also pulled out two small bearskin rugs, a water bag, her knife, the jar of red cloud herb ointment and the fire-making sticks. Kai stopped to watch her.
“Ping isn’t waiting for the carriage?” he asked.
“No,” Ping replied. “We’re going to go on by ourselves, just you and me.”
“That’s good,” the dragon said.
Ping scratched him under the chin.
“You don’t mind?”
He shook his head. “Just Kai and Ping.”
Ping packed their things into a leather saddlebag. She had always intended to dismiss the soldiers before they reached their destination, but hadn’t suspected that it would be so soon. Kai looked wistfully at the things they were leaving behind.
“Not taking any cushions?” he asked.
Ping shook her head.
“No backscratcher?”
Ping laughed. “No.”
She hoisted the saddlebag onto her shoulder. It was very heavy. She put it down again.
“I’ll have to take something out,” she said.
She pulled out the spare pair of shoes and a bag of jujubes.
“Must take the jujubes!” said Kai.
“But the bag’s too heavy,” Ping said.
“Kai will carry the bag.”
Ping argued that he wouldn’t be able to manage it, but he insisted. She strapped the saddlebag just behind his shoulders. It fitted surprisingly well. She repacked the shoes and jujubes.
It was a cold morning. A strong wind whipped up dust. Ping put on her cloak and pulled up the hood. They set off. Kai’s ears drooped. He was nearly two now. He had changed a great deal in the time they had been at Beibai Palace, growing from a dragonling to the young dragon who was walking alongside her. He carried the bag without complaining and easily kept pace with her.
“It’s good to finally start our journey,” Ping said.
Kai made a tinkling sound. She was glad he agreed.
The hills that had looked soft and low through the carriage window seemed steeper now that they were climbing them on foot. Ping’s leg muscles were aching before midday. Most of the day Kai walked at her side, but sometimes he scampered off, darting this way and that as he played some game or other. When he wandered too far away, she flashed her mirror and he came back to her side.
“What were you playing?” she asked.
“Looking for dragon stones,” he replied.
Ping felt a stab of sorrow. Kai had never said so, but she guessed he’d be lonely when they reached the dragon haven. He’d had many human friends at the palace, and he’d also had dogs to chase, goats to annoy. She’d never considered that he might also yearn for the company of other young dragons. She pulled out the silk square and peered at it. Was that what they wou
ld find? Another dragon egg, perhaps a cache of dragon stones. Now that she knew about raising a baby dragon, rearing a whole brood of them would be no trouble at all. In fact, she would enjoy it.
As she walked, Ping thought about Danzi and the long journey they had made together. They had travelled from the western border of the Empire to where it ended in the east on the shores of Ocean. The Empire was green and lush when she had travelled with Danzi. Now it was dusty and dry from lack of rain.
Danzi was a dragon of few words, but his son was a chatterbox. As they walked, Kai talked endlessly. He pointed out interesting things—a hill shaped like a sleeping animal, a snaking riverbed, a large bird’s nest. Because of his exceptional eyesight, most of the things he indicated were too far away for Ping to see. He also enjoyed recounting his own adventures, most of which Ping already knew about, though occasionally she would discover some mischief that he had caused at Ming Yang Lodge or at Beibai Palace when her back had been turned. The only time he stopped talking was when someone approached them on the road and he had to shape-change. Ping was glad Kai had mastered this dragon skill. She didn’t want to attract any attention.
Ping was also relieved Kai had grown out of the stage where he constantly asked questions. Now he preferred to show her how clever he was—naming plants, birds and animals—and telling her how brave he would be if they met a tiger or a dragon hunter. Ping grunted occasionally to show that she was listening, though much of the time her thoughts were elsewhere.
As Kai recounted the story of how he’d been stuck inside a vase at Ming Yang Lodge, more than half of Ping’s attention was on what they would eat for their evening meal. She saw a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. It looked like something had fallen from the saddlebag. She stopped and looked back.
“Did you drop something, Kai?” she asked.
“No,” the dragon replied.
“Are you sure?”
As she checked the ties on the bag, she noticed something lying on the road behind them. She went back to pick it up. It was one of Kai’s purple scales.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked anxiously, hurrying back to the dragon and feeling the tips of his ears. “Do you have a fever?”
“Kai is feeling well.”
He scratched himself behind his left shoulder. Another scale fell off.
“Is it the bag? It must be rubbing your scales and making them fall out.”
“No, Kai’s scales are tough, like a soldier’s armour.”
Ping made the dragon sit down while she looked at his tongue, felt his pulse at each ankle, and peered into his eyes. He seemed to be perfectly healthy. As she examined his scales, another one came off in her hand.
“What’s happening to you, Kai?” exclaimed Ping, now very alarmed. “Why are your scales falling out?”
“Moulting,” Kai said calmly.
“Moulting?”
“Like goats losing their winter coat. Like a snake changing its skin.”
Ping looked closer at the part of the dragon’s hide where this latest scale had fallen out. In the space between the hard, leathery purple scales there was a soft new one. It was pale green and shimmered when it caught the sun. There were more pale green patches where the other scales had fallen out.
“You’re changing colour,” Ping said in amazement. “The purple scales must be your baby scales.”
Kai twisted his neck and lifted his leg to try and see. He lost his balance and fell over. He rolled on his back, but still couldn’t get a glimpse of his new scales.
“What colour are they?” he asked.
“Green,” Ping said. “A beautiful, soft green like new spring grass.”
Kai made tinkling sounds. “Same as Father,” he said.
She smiled. “Yes. The same as Danzi.”
He dug a hole and scooped the purple scales into it, then covered them over with dirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t want people to find scales.”
Ping set a fast pace, but their progress was much slower than when they had been in the carriage. At the palace she’d grown used to getting whatever she wanted as soon as she spoke it aloud. Now she would have to learn to be patient all over again.
Late in the afternoon, they were walking through a sparsely wooded area. Buds, already turning brown at their tips, were struggling to open on the spindly trees. There was no spring grass to cushion their steps. Last year’s dry yellow grass crunched beneath their feet. Flowers should have been opening, but there were none. Kai suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. He looked into the gloom, peering at a particular tree.
“What?” asked Ping anxiously. “Do you see danger? Can you smell something?”
The sound of tinkling wind chimes rang out. “Swallows!” he said and ran off.
Kai’s favourite food was also the same as his father’s.
Kai’s hunting techniques needed improvement. His lumbering approach gave the swallows plenty of warning. There was no tasty bird for dinner that night. Ping was disappointed. She had developed quite a taste for roasted swallow herself. They ate a decent meal of beancurd and grain, but they were both used to the palace banquets. The meal didn’t fill Kai up. He managed to catch some moths, but he was much too big to be satisfied by a few insects. He poked his head into the saddlebag.
“Any baked quails?” he asked hopefully.
Ping shook her head.
“Honey cakes?”
“No.”
The spines along the dragon’s back drooped. Another scale fell out.
“You can have a jujube,” Ping said. “Just one.”
She handed him the dried fruit and took one for herself.
Lumps of dirt suddenly flew in her direction, striking her on the face and collecting in her lap. Ping had never seen Kai make a nest before. First he dug a hole with his strong front talons—taking great care that it was just the right size for his coiled body, but paying no attention to where the excavated soil went. Then he collected dried grass and leaves to fill the hole and lay his bearskin on top. Finally he jumped onto the bed and wriggled around until it was comfortable. He was soon asleep.
The sky was clear. It had been a long time since Ping had been out in the open at night. The black sky, studded with countless stars, was huge compared to the square of night sky she’d grown used to seeing above the courtyard at Beibai Palace. The vast blackness surrounded her. It made her feel as small as an ant, and sucked away her daytime confidence. What exactly was she doing? Wandering in unknown lands following the puzzling directions of an absent and ancient dragon scribbled hastily on a scrap of fabric, guided by a riddle obtained by juggling plant stalks. It was as if she were looking for one particular star among the many thousands. At night, she wasn’t so sure that she could find it.
Ping huddled into her bearskin. The clear sky also meant that it was a cold night. Though she didn’t miss the spines sticking into her side, she did miss the dragon’s warmth. She could hear snoring coming from Kai’s nest. She wondered if she should dig a hole to sleep in, but she was too weary. She pulled the bearskin around her. She would have to get used to sleeping out in the open all over again.
• chapter seven •
PRAYERS AND PLEAS
“Quick, Kai, shape–change!” she hissed
“Someone’s approaching.”
Ping liked being out in the countryside again, with no one but herself and Kai deciding when they ate and slept. Palace life had been comfortable, but it was confined and unvaried, and she was often bored. She preferred a life that kept pace with the slow march of the sun across the sky: the constant search for the next meal, somewhere to fill the water bag, a comfortable place to sleep. She enjoyed the pleasure of discovery as she caught sight of a plant she’d never seen before or a new species of bird. Just the way the colour of the earth gradually changed was a delight. Everyday there was a new horizon.
Over the next few days, Ping estimated that they travelled about
a hundred li. It was a good pace, but they were still at least two weeks from reaching Dragon’s Lament Creek. They hadn’t followed the main road. Ping wanted to avoid contact with people as much as possible, and she didn’t want the Duke’s soldiers to find them again. The track they were travelling on skirted a small hill. A few goats were searching for any remaining blades of grass on its brown slopes.
Ping heard voices ahead of them. The dragon, whose hearing wasn’t as sharp as hers, hadn’t heard anything.
“Quick, Kai, shape-change!” she hissed. “Someone’s approaching.”
The air around the dragon began to shimmer. Ping looked away while the transformation took place. Watching a dragon shape-change made her feel sick. When she looked back, instead of a purple dragon, there was a young boy aged about six. It was an image of Ping’s own brother. Kai had never met him. The dragon had copied her memory of her brother the last time she had seen him. He would be a year and a half older now. It was Kai’s favourite image when shape-changing.
Ping put her hand on the shoulder of the young boy standing beside her. Though her fingers appeared to rest on the smooth cloth of the boy’s robe, she actually felt the rough texture of dragon scales. Three people appeared on the track in front of them. Ping got ready to greet them politely and then quickly continue on her way. When they caught sight of her and the boy, they stopped and stared, whispering loudly to each other. Then they turned and ran back the way they had come.
“Don’t change back yet, Kai,” Ping told the dragon. “They might be coming back.”
They rounded the hill and found a crowd of people waiting for them. They seemed very pleased to see the strangers. The people were dressed in worn gowns and the children were dirty. Their fields were just dusty, brown squares of earth. Their only crop was some wilted winter greens, but they were smiling as they led Ping and Kai to a small village.
The village gates were open and what looked like the entire population of the village was rushing out to meet them. They lined both sides of the track, cheering and waving coloured silk scarves. Ping couldn’t understand why they were making such a fuss.
The village elder, a wrinkled old man with a stooped back and a limp, stepped forward. His pale, watery eyes were fixed on the young boy at Ping’s side. She pulled Kai towards her, but the old man’s knobbly fingers reached out and touched the boy’s shoulder. Ping knew he was feeling a rough, scaly hide instead of the robes of a young boy. She waited for him to collapse unconscious, which was the usual reaction when someone unexpectedly touched a shape-changed dragon. But the elder didn’t pass out. His thin lips pulled apart in a smile, pushing aside the wrinkles on his face to make room for a set of stained teeth.
Dragon Moon Page 5