The admiral leaned forward. “Tell me,” he commanded.
Shi Jinqing told. And Zheng He remained aware of the dragon listening.
Once his informant departed, Zheng He went to Merabor again. The dragon stretched its wings and asked, “You will kill the pirate now?"
"I intend to,” the admiral said. “He lied before. He does not acknowledge my sovereignty."
"You consider it more valuable than his life."
"He must realize my emperor's powers. He steals from my people and laughs at my fleet."
Merabor remained silent for a long moment, leaving Zheng He to wonder what line of thought it pursued. Then Merabor said, “On my world ... this does not happen now."
Zheng He blinked in confusion. “Your ... world? Only the one exists."
Merabor stretched up to his full height and looked down upon Zheng He. At this moment, the admiral told me, the dragon frightened him, though Merabor made no threatening gesture. Instead, the admiral said, the dragon assumed a superior stance he'd never witnessed previously. Zheng He had considered Merabor dependent upon him since his arrival aboard his treasure ship. He provided him fishes and apples and water, after all, and in a sense represented the dragon's only access to the sun itself, which seemed to revitalize him in a way the admiral still struggled to understand. Zheng He asked, “What other world do you speak of?"
"A light in the sky. So far away you cannot see it."
"We steer our ships by such groupings of stars, such as the Weaving Girl and the Lantern. But surely you cannot live on a point of light."
"Other worlds circle them, just as this one circles your sun."
"Merabor, you speak more confidently than I have heard before. And your vocabulary has grown."
The dragon's wings folded against his back. “You believe me an animal, despite my obvious intelligence. Such a mistake carries dangers."
"I and my crew saved your life. Why would you make such threats?"
"I would never threaten. But I must explain. I violated my orders when I allowed you to rescue me. My society says I must not speak to humans or even allow them to see me or my ship."
"Ship?” Zheng He asked. “I've seen no ship—only your mother as she crashed into the sea."
"Another mistake. You saw my ship—it contains what you call ‘the spark of life,’ although one cannot call it truly alive. But it did not give birth to me. I travel in it as you travel aboard this treasure ship. But it grew ... ill ... unexpectedly and crashed here."
"Enough nonsense. I have dealt with you honestly. Do the same for me. Will you remain and learn more of civilized people? Or do you wish to leave us? If so, will you do so peacefully or by using your great strength and breath of fire?"
The dragon regarded the admiral through those narrow lids. “I will remain to witness your civilization."
Zheng He still felt uncertain of Merabor's intentions, but kept those thoughts to himself as he had his observation deck at the stern of the ship cleared and escorted the dragon there personally. A commander, Zheng He, knew, must make promises sparingly but must always follow through on them once made.
He watched as Merabor stood with arms widespread and unfolded his wings toward the sun. Those wise, knowing eyes closed and Zheng He felt as if he viewed the earthbound dragon floating free above them all, as if Merabor's freedom of flight might assert itself at any moment.
The dragon's long blue tunic flapped in the breeze as he stood as unmoving as a monument—Zheng He's mouth turned up in a wry smile at that thought, as if Merabor stood there proclaiming his own self-worth simply by maintaining such a stance.
Then the admiral's smile faded. This dragon does indeed hold such self-worth—such self-importance—within. I recognize that emotion in him because I recognize it within myself.
Only one of us may entertain such feelings within this fleet, however. Merabor must learn his place.
Zheng He could not help, though, but remain aware of the many eyes aboard other ships that took in the dragon's form and stared in wonderment, even as he himself had stared when he first glimpsed Merabor.
It does not matter, Zheng He thought. I will tell them what they have seen and what they have not. One day I will command a chronicle of these voyages, and if I wish it to contain tales of a dragon, it will contain them. If not—Merabor will remain a rumor, a legend, the talk of drunken or delusional seamen, perhaps with only his unnatural egg and any knowledge we might gain from it remaining.
* * * *
Zheng He positioned his larger ships in the Strait of Malacca to bottle up Chen Zuyi's craft within the river courses from which they would attack. His smaller craft rushed down those courses to engage Chen's ships. Archers aboard those craft, making sure they traveled safely upwind, launched many flaming arrows into Chen's ships, quickly setting them aflame. Still more of Zheng He's craft deployed troops to attack Chen's ships from land.
The battle raged for many hours, well into the night. As the day's last rays faded beyond the horizon, Zheng He ordered his ship positioned broadside to the shoreline. He had the rear observation deck cleared again and brought Merabor there. The admiral stood in silence as ships burned on those inland waterways and explosives rumbled. The smell of gunpowder wafted across the deck. The shouts of victorious men and screams of maimed ones carried across the water to their ears.
Zheng He watched little of this; he focused mostly upon the dragon, wondering what it made of this battle. Does he think us truly barbarians? the admiral wondered. If so, what gives him the right? His people have little to recommend them—Merabor, after all, has allowed me to master him, with barely a protest.
Finally the dragon turned away from the shoreline and looked down upon Zheng He. “Your skills impress me. Oh, your technical abilities stand far below those of my people, of course. But you and your commanders possess a genius of sorts for organization and tactics."
"'Of sorts,’ you say?"
"Look far inland—two of your boats and dozens of your troops coordinate themselves in an attack on one of Chen Zuyi's craft—masterful!"
Zheng He narrowed his gaze, but saw no such drama playing itself out. “In the darkness, my eyes can make out but little beyond the mouths of these rivers."
Merabor's wings fluttered. “That explains much."
Zheng He waved that assertion away with a gesture. “A trifle. Yet in many ways you present me with difficult truths."
"I have another difficult truth for you—have your astronomers perceived an extra star in the sky—one which moves even more quickly than the planets do?"
Zheng He said, “They've told me of no such star."
"Look now in the northern sky.” Merabor pointed just about halfway between the horizon and zenith. “Even your eyes should see that star now."
Zheng He placed a hand across his forehead and squinted to help himself focus on that star. “I do see it. And it passes quite quickly."
"As it does several times a night."
"Do your people live there, as well?"
"Imagine another ship, much larger than the one that crashed here, larger even than your ship of the sea. It allows us to travel between the stars. I must return there soon. What you call my ‘mother’ brought me here. It will take me back."
Blood rushed to Zheng He's face, and for an instant he wondered whether the dragon could perceive that, as well. If he can, the admiral thought, then he hides it well. “How ... soon?” the admiral asked.
"I do not know. Before months pass, certainly. Perhaps weeks."
Zheng He decided upon his plan at that moment, especially as it occurred to him that if Merabor could see so well in darkness, perhaps he could see his mother—his “ship"—when he and his men could not. Perhaps, he thought, Merabor even speaks with it somehow without us realizing.
But I cannot allow this dragon to leave. He must remain here and return to China with me as the most fabulous prize I or any other admiral might present to the emperor.
&nbs
p; For that prize, I will risk my ship, my very life.
* * * *
Admiral Zheng's forces killed five thousand of the pirates, burned ten of their ships, and captured seven more. Chen himself would travel with them as their prisoner to the imperial capital in Nanjing to face execution.
The pirates dealt with, Zheng He ordered a select group of his men to begin work on a special room for the dragon, in a corner of the hold several bulkheads away. His next thought: This room will house a dragon, not a fool. I must push the men to work quickly, and never allow Merabor to witness their work. As the proverb states, talk does not cook rice.
Zheng He gave considerable thought to his plans for Merabor as he dealt with the aftermath of the battle with Chen Zuyi's forces. Those thoughts inspired action; action transformed itself nearly into obsession.
The dragon would acknowledge his sovereignty.
* * * *
So the night arrived that Zheng He cleared the observation deck once again and invited Merabor to watch the passage of that swift star in the northern sky. The dragon kept his wings close to his body here on the windy deck—they served no purpose without sunlight, and Zheng He perceived they could easily catch the wind and throw Merabor off balance.
Admiral Zheng peered to the northeast and saw Merabor watching the same area of the skies. “You keep watch for the first sign of your star."
"Of course,” Merabor said.
"I stood here at dusk,” Zheng He said. “I saw dark skies in that direction. It means we will see rain by midnight."
"I must warn you. You will see much more than rain. This ship—all of your marvelous ships—may find themselves engulfed by a storm you cannot comprehend."
Zheng He fought back a smile. “You hope to teach my people meteorology now? If you indeed come from another world, how do you know so much about this world's weather?"
Merabor stared down at the admiral through those narrow lids as he had so many times before. “I still have many surprises to present you."
Zheng He had only known Merabor these short weeks since he had arrived from the skies, but he felt he knew the dragon as well as he did any of his crew. Merabor speaks on many levels this night, the admiral thought. He works to deliver a message to me without saying it outright. This makes him dangerous. I must take that advantage back.
Merabor pointed to the northeastern horizon. “Look! My ship."
Indeed, the moving star rose quickly from the horizon, headed toward northern skies. “You wish to return to your people,” Zheng He said to the dragon.
Merabor didn't take his gaze from the swift star. “As a sailor, you must often miss your homeland."
"I consider that I take my homeland with me on this journey. As I will on those that follow. My emperor has commanded me to allow as much of the world as possible to witness the glory of his reign."
"A goal you have fulfilled honorably, as I have seen since my arrival here. Now—do you wish to show me your own surprise?"
Zheng He's face felt warm despite the cool wind that swept across the observation deck. He hoped only a quirk of the dragon's wording made it sound as much like an order as a suggestion. I have decided correctly to act on this night, he thought. “Yes,” he told the dragon. “I wish to show it to you now."
* * * *
Zheng He admitted to me he felt fear as he followed Merabor down into the hold. The dragon always stepped cautiously down the stairs, because his feet easily extended to a length twice their width. He also kept his arms and sometimes his wings extended to maintain his balance. Admiral Zheng could not help but watch the muscles of the dragon's great arms as they flexed. He feared what those arms might do if they snatched up a man or hurled a heavy barrel.
Finally Zheng He and the dragon reached the floor of the hold and walked most of the length of the great ship to arrive in a section Merabor had never been allowed into before. His private room stood against one bulkhead of the ship, illuminated by a shaft of sunlight that the admiral hoped obscured the fact that darkness claimed most of the rest of the hold.
The room revealed a simple design: smooth, even flimsy-seeming wood with a tall doorway the only entrance. The door, closed for now, towered over Zheng He's head, but he knew Merabor would have to duck slightly to enter. The dragon's fully extended wings might barely touch either side of the room.
"I know these amount to small accommodations,” Admiral Zheng said. “But I've not explained their special nature."
Three dozen archers stood amid boxes and barrels throughout the hold, each aiming at Merabor.
The admiral's heart hadn't beat as strongly during the battle against Chen Zuyi. He watched as the dragon turned its attention to him. Merabor said, “You cannot call this the gift of a friend."
Zheng He hardened his soul against Merabor's words. “I call it the proper gift for a barbarian."
The dragon said, “You told me I should not utter that word to you. Yet you say it to me?"
"Only a civilized man may decide who deserves the title of barbarian."
Merabor leaned forward, and Zheng He fought with every bit of courage and honor he could muster not to take even a single step back. He heard the muted wooden sound of arrow against bow and the soft rustle of clothing as the archers made ready to fire.
Zheng He had convinced himself that this dragon, for whatever reason, did not possess the power to breathe fire. As Merabor stared him down, however, doubt arose within him. He realized the dragon could easily burn him down, however quick his archers’ reactions, however sure their aim.
But Merabor did not even open his mouth. Instead, he went to the door of his special room, pulled it open, and walked inside.
Several of the archers cast aside their weapons, slammed the door shut, and thrust a broad wooden bar across the doorway, trapping Merabor within.
Zheng He expected to hear a loud protest from the dragon at this point, but he heard none. For whatever reason Merabor does not resist, the admiral thought, I must take advantage of this. He motioned to the archers and they detached the flimsy wood facades from the exterior of Merabor's room, revealing that the dragon stood within a room of thick reinforced timbers.
Merabor told Zheng He, “So now you consider me your prisoner."
"You will arrive in China as the honored guest of our emperor."
"And if I decline this honor?"
"I hope you do not. I respect you, Merabor. I believe once you understand the glory of my emperor's civilization, you will remain of your own free will. But I must insist you give me that opportunity. Several of the archers will keep watch at all times, in case we have underestimated your strength."
Merabor went to the far side of his room and stood with his back against the ship's bulkhead. “We understand one another,” he said. “Do what you will."
Zheng He motioned for the archers to stand down for now, thankful for his luck that Merabor did not resist, thankful as well that the dragon's strange egg remained secured in another corner of the hold. He would have his most skilled artisans find a way to crack that egg and allow his astrologers and doctors to examine its contents soon enough.
Yet as the admiral stared into Merabor's features, he grew concerned. He felt he knew Merabor well enough to read those features—and he perceived only peace and calm reflected there.
So I cannot help but wonder, Zheng He thought, which of us might truly consider himself victorious.
* * * *
Zheng He soon found himself rushing to the observation deck again. Merabor's words had proven themselves correct—he would soon see much more than rain. Approaching clouds made the skies grow darker by the moment, even as ocean waves grew taller and the treasure ship rocked more and more.
The admiral knew typhoons could arise here in the Western Ocean without warning, but when he demanded information from his astrologers and diviners, they told him but little. They insisted that the sky and seas appeared to act independently of one another rather than in concert. Th
ey could provide no explanation for the phenomenon.
When pressed for even the smallest detail, they told him only that the seas churned more restlessly than the skies would indicate—that something other than the winds drove the waves to such heights.
Zheng He's mind sped to the image of the dragon's mother—or “ship,” as he insisted upon calling it. Its dark presence had concerned him profoundly the only time he'd glimpsed it.
Could it have returned?
As if summoned by the admiral's remembrance of the dragon's mother, a series of waves just ahead and to starboard of the treasure ship began to spin around one another, as if attempting to create a waterspout from the bottom up. The ocean all around began to roil.
Zheng He told the astrologers and diviners to sound the alert throughout the ship. He ordered the great vessel's pilot to steer sharply to port, and its signalers to command the gigantic fleet to do the same—in the darkness, with the other ships unable to see flags and banners, drums and gongs alerted the other ships of the sudden change in course.
As the treasure ship veered, Zheng He rushed to the starboard side of the ship—he had to know whether it would clear the violent upwelling of water successfully.
As the admiral described it to me later, in that moment, the ocean exploded! Its waters lifted up as if a giant hand had swept across the surface of the sea.
Those waters hurled Zheng He against a bulkhead, and awareness fled for several seconds. It returned only reluctantly, with a vague impression of the sea casting the treasure ship from side to side, punctuated by deafening blasts of thunder and blinding bursts of lightning. He felt a sharp pain at the back of his head and reached back with his hand. His hair felt sticky. When he looked at his hand, rain washed blood down his fingers.
As he sat up, Zheng He saw crewmen running to bring down the bamboo sails before the storm could rip them from the masts. He heard them crying out the name of Tianfei, the patron goddess of sailors. Zheng He forced himself to his feet and looked across the windswept ocean. The ships of his fleet, which normally sailed in an orderly pattern, now found themselves cast about at random.
Analog SFF, January-February 2009 Page 11