The house was quiet and sleepy. Kai was watching the goldfish in the pond. Tao smiled to himself, convinced that the dragon was considering them as a snack rather than admiring their beauty. Meiling was braiding Pema’s hair. A breeze rustled the bamboo leaves.
“What’s that on Wei’s arms and legs?” Pema asked. Wei’s limbs were glistening and yellowish.
“Every day my mother massages a mixture of sesame oil and dried safflower into Wei’s arms and legs,” Tao explained. “A physician told her it would make them stronger. He also prescribed a herbal mixture of plants rich in qi which she prepares herself. Wei has to drink it three times a day. He doesn’t like it.”
“What happened to your brother, Tao?” Pema asked. “Did he have an accident?”
Tao shook his head sadly. “No. He was born without the use of his limbs, and though he is very clever, he has never been able to speak. The physician said that he has crooked-bones disease and there is no cure for it.” He took his brother’s hand. “My mother refuses to believe him. She says that Wei should have been the first-born son, but I was impatient. I wrapped Wei’s birth cord around his neck to slow him so that I could be born first. That constricted the cord and meant my mother’s qi was cut off from him.”
There were tears in Pema’s eyes as she rearranged Wei’s cushions.
“It is my fault that my brother was born the way he is,” Tao whispered.
“Is that why your mother sent you away to the monastery?” Pema asked.
“Mother didn’t send Tao away,” Meiling said. “It was his own idea.”
“If I can accumulate enough good karma, Wei will be cured, if not in this life, then in the next,” Tao said. “That has been my ambition since I was seven.”
“I think your mother is wrong,” Pema said. “I don’t think it’s Tao’s fault that Wei was born this way.”
“You are just a girl and you’ve lived alone in a cellar all your life. Are you trying to tell me you’re more knowledgeable than my mother?”
“I may not have book knowledge, but I learn by watching and listening. That’s how I have survived. Your mother is blinded by love for Wei. So are you.”
Tao felt anger bubble up inside him. Pema had a knack of saying things that upset him.
“You’ve been in this household for less than a day. You don’t know anything about my family!”
Clouds moved over the sun. It grew cooler. Meiling went inside.
Tao was trying to calm his thoughts. He was angry with Pema and confused by his his shifting emotions. Normally when he came home, he spent all his time with Wei, and everyone left them in peace, even his mother, who knew how much Wei enjoyed Tao’s company. This visit was different. He wished everyone would leave the two of them alone.
He took hold of Wei’s hands, which were still slippery with oil from his massage, grasping one hand in each of his own, hoping that his brother’s serenity would calm him. But Wei’s eyes were staring right into his. Wei wasn’t calm at all. He was concentrating hard as his hands slowly closed around Tao’s. For anyone else it would have been a gentle squeeze. For Wei it was his strongest grip. Tao felt a faint pulse in the fingers of his brother’s left hand that transferred into the fingers of his own right hand and then into his palm. The pulse became a tingle and spread to his wrist and up his arm. The feeling strengthened a little inside him before it passed from his left hand into Wei’s right hand. The tingle became an ache. A force was flowing through his brother and back to himself, getting stronger with each circulation. He had grasped Wei’s hands many times, but he’d never experienced anything like that before.
“What’s wrong, Tao?” Pema asked.
Kai moved closer, watching.
Tao couldn’t speak. The ache had turned into a sharp pain making him gasp. He could see that Wei felt it too, yet he didn’t let go. He wanted the pain to get stronger. The force circled through them like a strengthening wind, like a stream swelling with rain.
Kai made anxious sounds.
Tao heard a voice in his head, faint at first, just a whisper. The voice was both unknown and familiar. For a moment he thought it was Wei’s voice that he could hear, but he dismissed that thought as soon as it arrived. It wasn’t Wei speaking to him. Kai was making his tinkling sounds. The voice became clearer, as if whoever was speaking was getting closer, speaking right into his ear.
“What are we having for dinner?” the voice said.
Tao tore his eyes away from Wei’s and looked at Kai.
“Did you say that?”
The dragon made a sound, almost like a roar. He transformed into his true shape. Stood tall.
“Two horns above, one foot below.
No reason to hurry, so I move very slow.
Yet wherever I roam,
I never leave home.”
It was the dragon’s voice Tao could hear. And he understood the words he spoke. Their meaning, however, was a complete mystery.
Chapter Thirteen
VOICES
Tao felt as if he’d found something that had been lost for a very long time.
“What’s happening?” Pema asked.
“I can hear!” said Tao.
“Hear what?”
Kai’s words were without sound like Tao’s own thoughts, not so much heard as felt.
“A voice.”
“All I can hear is Kai making his usual rumbles and grumbles.”
Tao laughed. “I can hear that too, as I always could, but in my mind those sounds make sense, like hearing Sanskrit spoken and having someone translate it for you. Except it’s not someone else. I can understand him.”
Tao looked at Wei, who was exhausted by the effort of their bonding, but he could see that his eyes were bright with happiness. He had known this would happen.
Pema was infuriated that she could only hear one side of the conversation. “Tell me what Kai is saying.”
“Something about one foot, two horns and never being far from home. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“I knew you were the one!” Kai said. The dragon jumped from one foot to the other and turned in a circle, knocking over a table with a vase on it.
“Kai, what are you doing?”
“A dance!” The dragon wriggled his rear and shook his mane. “Do you like jujubes? I have an itch. I need a back scratcher. Did you guess my riddle?”
Tao had imagined that the dragon would choose his words with care and use them sparingly. He’d thought the dragon’s voice would be like a monk intoning a sutra, but the voice was cheerful. The words tumbled into his mind like rice grains tipped from a jar, like raindrops falling from a cloud.
“Riddle?” Tao was still trying to interpret what he heard. “Kai. You have to talk about one thing at a time. I’m not used to this.”
“You and Wei are one not two,” Kai said. “Together you are a dragonkeeper!”
“Dragonkeeper?”
“A rare person who can bond with a dragon. I had a dragonkeeper when I was a hatchling. Her name was Ping. She liked jujubes. Aren’t Pema’s eyes pretty?”
“You must be mistaken. It can’t be me.”
Pema couldn’t contain her frustration. “What’s a dragonkeeper? Tell me!”
Tao ignored her.
“Your family name is Huan,” the dragon was saying. “You have the shard.”
“The shard?”
“The piece of purple shell.”
Tao took the purple gemstone from his bag.
“Do you mean this?”
“I do,” the dragon’s voice said, and he pulled out his own small piece from behind the reverse scale. “It is not stone. It is eggshell, part of the egg that I hatched from. This is what drew me to you. Ping was your ancestor.”
Tao stared at the stone in the palm of his hand. He had hardly been parted from it since he was seven years old. Its shape and coolness were familiar, every curve and facet was known to him. But now it was also strange and unknown. It had a history that he
knew nothing of, and it had once been part of a living, growing egg that had protected the dragon in front of him.
Pema was hopping around them, impatient, exasperated. “Tell me. Tell me what Kai is saying!”
“It’s between us, Pema. Give me time to get used to this new form of communication, to take in what Kai’s saying, to think about what it means.”
Pema folded her arms and glared at Tao.
Tao ignored her. “Are all this woman’s descendants dragon people?”
“Dragonkeepers,” Kai said. “Not all. Just a few special ones. Those who have the three characteristics. Let’s play pitch ball. I bet I can beat you.”
“What characteristics?”
“They use their left hand. They can hear a dragon’s voice. They have second sight.”
“Other people use their left hand, and what makes you think I have second sight?”
“You sense that something is about to happen.”
“I have always had vague feelings that something is about to happen, but I don’t know what it is until after it’s happened. What’s the use of that? I wouldn’t call it second sight.”
“The second sight of each dragonkeeper is different. It is always difficult to master. Sometimes it takes years.”
“You can’t be sure.”
“I can,” the voice in Tao’s head said. “I want pheasant eggs for dinner! And stewed worms!”
Tao had so many questions to ask Kai, he hardly knew where to begin. Where was he from? How many other dragons were there?
“I have come from a mountain far away.”
That was all Kai would say.
“Did you live with other dragons?”
“I did.”
Tao was thrilled to know that there were other dragons hidden in the world. He was about to ask about them, when he suddenly thought of a very different question.
“Can Wei hear your voice too?”
“I do not know.”
“Can you hear his voice?”
“I can hear the faint whisper that is his voice, but I cannot make out the words.”
Tao felt something blossom inside him, like a lotus bud opening.
“You have powers, Kai, special powers. I knew from the moment you came into my life that it was for some purpose. You are here to help Wei, to heal his bones.”
Kai made sad sounds and moved his great head from side to side. “I cannot help Wei.”
“It’s wonderful to be able to hear your voice, Kai, but I’d give it up immediately if I could see Wei walk, if I could hear his voice. Are you absolutely sure you can’t heal him? Perhaps it will take years to achieve, like a dragonkeeper’s second sight.”
Kai shook his head.
“I have no healing powers. And if I did, Wei is beyond healing. I cannot reverse time and rebirth him.” Kai sighed and mist trailed from his nostrils. “I produce mist for making rain or to conceal myself. I shape-change. I create mirage. These are my skills. I am also an excellent swimmer.”
Tao felt the hope and joy inside him die, the petals of the lotus wither.
“Then why are you here?”
Kai’s voice was silent.
“It’s a snail!” Pema exclaimed.
Tao had no idea what she was talking about. “A snail?”
“The answer to Kai’s riddle.”
Tao was in no mood for riddles. He looked at his brother. He didn’t need words to tell him Wei was exhausted after their bonding. He held his hands again, though this time no force flowed through them. He was worried it had been too much for him. Despite their mother’s attentions, every time Tao came home he thought Wei looked frailer.
“Someone’s coming,” Pema said.
Kai changed back into his monk shape, just before Mrs Huan marched into the room.
“Tell me about the monk from Tianzhu who has the magic powers,” she demanded.
“What monk?”
“Fo Tu Deng, I believe is his name. You told your brother about him.” Tao should have realised that the servants reported everything they heard to Mrs Huan. “And my maid heard talk of him when she visited her grandmother in Luoyang.”
An angry rumble came from Kai’s direction. The dragon didn’t like Fo Tu Deng. And Tao was no longer certain of the monk’s abilities. After all, Fo Tu Deng’s “vision” of a temple in Luoyang had proved false, and he must have stolen the ancient sutras from the White Horse Temple and then dropped them as he fled Luoyang.
“You are a wicked boy, Tao,” his mother said. “Why didn’t you ask this holy man to beseech Buddha to heal Wei? You don’t want your brother to be healed.”
“Of course I do, Mother, but there was something about Fo Tu Deng I didn’t like. He seemed impressive, but now I’m not so sure that he has any special powers.”
At the evening meal, Kai was grumpy. He had to sit in his monk shape and pretend he didn’t want to eat while he watched Pema devour the fish that she had caught earlier, without offering to share it with anyone. Tao sipped a cup of water.
Mrs Huan again brought up the subject of Fo Tu Deng.
“If you truly loved your brother, you would want him to see the famous monk.”
“Even in a time of peace the journey to Luoyang would be hard for Wei,” Tao said. “You remember how he suffered when we moved here. And it’s dangerous to be out on the road.”
“I didn’t say anything about Wei travelling. You must go and fetch the monk. Why didn’t you bring him here in the first place?”
Tao smiled grimly. “I am a novice from a small monastery. I don’t know why you think someone like Fo Tu Deng would do what I ask. And anyway, I don’t know where he is. He looked like he was fleeing Luoyang the last time I saw him.”
“We can offer to make a generous donation to his new temple.”
“That will bring him running.” It was Kai’s voice in his head. No one seemed to think it was strange that the silent monk made occasional grunts and snorts.
“I thought you would learn respect at the monastery,” Mrs Huan said. “But you are disrespectful to monks, impolite to your mother and cruel to your brother.”
One thing Tao’s years in the monastery had taught him was how to stay silent. He didn’t take the bait his mother was dangling to provoke him into an argument with her. Tao had never won an argument with his mother, not once in his entire life. He sipped his water. Only the sound of Kai’s stomach rumbling broke the silence.
Pema said goodnight and went to sleep in Meiling’s quarters. The servants took Wei to his room, and Tao went with them to check that his brother was comfortable and to wish him goodnight. Farm servants now occupied all the spare rooms in the house, so he and Kai were sleeping in a storeroom between sacks of grain.
“I am hungry,” Kai announced, just as Tao was settling down. “I will go to the kitchens.”
Tao could imagine the dragon making a mess in the kitchens.
“I’ll go,” he said. “What do you want?”
“Roasted swallow perhaps?” the dragon said.
Tao went to the kitchen and fetched cold meat and eggs. “You’ll have to make do with this.”
“Are you not eating?”
“I can’t. Not until morning.”
Kai swallowed two eggs. “What does it matter to Buddha what time of day you eat?”
“It’s just one of the rules.”
“Does Buddha like his followers to go hungry?”
“No, it’s not that …” Tao couldn’t think of any way to explain it.
After Kai had finished eating, he wanted to make a nest. Tao went to the stables and brought back an armful of straw.
“Why did you take so long?” Kai asked. “I have composed another riddle for you.” He cleared his throat.
“My whiskers are neat,
My pink nose is sweet.
But your grain I steal,
To be my next meal.”
Tao sighed. “I’m not in the mood for riddles, Kai. Go to sleep.”
But as he spread the straw on the storeroom floor, the thoughts churning around in his head found their way to his tongue.
“I don’t belong in this house any more,” he said. “My mother is right. Living in a monastery for years has not taught me to be a good son.”
“You are a good brother.”
After Kai had wriggled around for a long time, he was finally happy with his nest. Tao was just dozing off when he felt a dragon talon poke him in the ribs.
“It is very draughty in here. I would like a bearskin. Ping always made sure I had a bearskin.”
Tao was too tired to remind Kai that they had been sleeping outdoors up until then.
“We don’t have a bearskin,” Tao said. “You’ll have to make do with a woollen blanket.” He got up again and went to find a blanket.
Tao wondered if this was what Kai expected from a dragonkeeper – to fetch and carry for him, even though he could manage well enough on his own. Tao didn’t much like the idea of being a dragon’s servant.
“What is a dragonkeeper supposed to do?” Tao asked.
“I only had one when I was small. She taught me things. She cleaned out my ears and trimmed my talons. She protected me from the world. What a grown dragon should expect from a dragonkeeper, I do not know.”
Kai dug around in the straw again and settled himself into it.
“Ping was special. No other dragonkeeper has been female. She took me to the dragon haven, the place high in the mountains where the remaining dragons hide. They did not want her there. She believed I would be better off with my own kind. She left, and I never saw Ping again.”
Though Tao could hear Kai’s voice in his mind, he could still hear the sad cracked bell sound.
“I miss human companionship. I miss Ping. But she was a girl. She did not like adventures. You and I can wander the empire. We can go on quests together. That is what I would like.”
Tao thought about all the things that he missed. He longed for the peace and tranquillity of the monastery. He missed the gentle rhythm of his days on the mountain, where the only unexpected event might be a flurry of unseasonal snow or the sight of a rare bird. He missed the quiet calm of his hours transcribing, his only company the moths that circled the lamp. Most of all he missed the contentment at the end of each day, when he could look back and be satisfied that he’d recited the set number of sutras, he’d transcribed and meditated, he’d added to his store of good karma for Wei. All that was required of him he had achieved. Now his days had no order. His feelings were not under his control. He didn’t know what was required of him and he never felt that he accomplished anything. He was about to explain all that to Kai, but the dragon was already snoring.
Dragonkeeper 4: Blood Brothers Page 9