'What kind of energy, Master?'
As I said, it is different for everyone. But it will be linked to one of the seven points of power in the body'
My master had taught me about the points of power: seven balls of invisible energy that were positioned in a line from the base of the spine to the crown of the head. They regulated the flow of Hua, the life force, through the physical and emotional body. It seemed that the whispers around the candidate school were true — a Dragoneye did give up some of his life force. No wonder they aged so fast.
'When I was chosen by the Tiger Dragon,' my master continued, 'the bargain I made was the energy that no man gives up lightly' His gaze met mine then slid away. 'So be prepared — it will not be easy. You cannot gain the dragon's power without giving something valuable in return.'
I nodded, although I did not truly understand.
And then when your bargain is made and you are the Rat Dragoneye apprentice, we must be even more careful. You cannot place a foot wrong, Eon, or we will both die.'
There was fear and hope in his eyes, and I knew he saw the same in mine. The far door opened again. My master sat back as Rilla entered, carrying a black lacquer tray laid with tea implements. She placed the tray on the desk.
'Only Eon will be taking a bowl,' my master said.
Rilla bowed, unrolled a round gold mat and arranged it in front of me. It was a representation of the Dragoneye compass, intricately painted with the twenty-four circles of energy manipulation. As a candidate, I had been drilled in the first and second circles of the compass
— the cardinal points and the dragon-animal signs — but only apprentices studied how to use the other circles. I leaned closer and touched the painted Rat near the top of the second circle, sending out another silent plea to the Rat Dragon: choose me. Then, to complete my private petition, I swept my fingers around the twelve painted animals in the direction of their yearly rising. Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon...
Rat turns, Dragon learns, Empire burns.
The harsh, echoing words stabbed through my mind, searing into my gut. I gasped and jerked back my hand as Rilla set a red drinking bowl in the centre of the mat. Her eyes flicked to mine, wide with concern.
'What are you doing, Eon?' my master snapped.
'Nothing, Master.' I ducked my head in apology, pressing my hand against my belly. Why had such a strange rhyme come to mind? Was it something I'd read in one of the Dragoneye texts?
They were full of strange sayings and bad verse.
'Well, sit still.'
'Yes, Master.' I took a careful breath. Only an echo of the stabbing pain remained. I had never had such sharp cramps before — maybe the ghost-maker's tea would ease them. Rilla lifted a small brazier of hot coals from the tray and placed it on the desk, setting a pot of steaming water over the heat.
'I will prepare the tea,' my master said.
A shivering unease twitched across my back. Rilla nodded and positioned a larger mixing bowl with a small bamboo whisk in front of him. He waved his hand towards the door. 'You may go.'
She bowed and backed out of the room.
My master waited until the door snapped shut, then picked up the pouch and untied the leather fastening.
'You must only use one pinch per bowl.' He dropped a grey-green powder into the mixing bowl. And do not use boiling water or you will destroy the power of the herb.' He lifted the pot off the brazier and poured a small amount of water into the bowl. With a few flicks of the bamboo whisk, the tea was mixed.
'Give me your bowl.'
I passed it over. He deftly transferred the murky liquid and passed it back.
'The ghost-maker said it was best taken in one swallow.'
I eyed the dark surface of the tea, watching my reflection slide and settle.
'lake it.'
The bowl smelled of damp leaves and decay No wonder it was best taken in one swallow. The oily bitterness washed through my mouth. I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to spit.
My master gave a nod. 'Good.'
I put the empty bowl back onto the gold mat. My master tightened the leather cord around the pouch and passed it across the table.
'Keep it hidden.'
I slipped it into my pocket, next to the cheese and bread. I knew how to keep secrets.
'I have also prepared your way with the Council,' my master said. 'Do you know what this is?'
He tapped the sealed top of the black ceramic jar.
'No, Master.'
He turned it around slowly and the white painted characters of my name twisted into view.
'It is a vessel of proof,' he said. 'On the records of the Council you are a Moon Shadow.'
I stared at him. Somehow, my master had registered me as a Moon eunuch: a boy castrated before puberty for family advancement and opportunity. Such boys were never touched by manhood, forever retaining the physical form of their youth. I leaned closer to the eunuch jar.
I had never seen one before, but I knew that sealed inside was the mummified proof of the operation. Without it, a Shadow Man could not gain employment or promotion. If he was not buried with it at death, he would have no chance of returning to wholeness in the next world.
What Shadow Man would give up such a precious thing? There was only one answer: one who was already dead.
'Master,' I whispered, 'surely this will bring bad luck.'
He frowned. 'It will ensure that your size and voice will not be remarked,' he said firmly. 'And any evil spirits have been well placated with coin.' He picked up the jar, motioning to a new layer of wax around the lid. 'According to the records, yon have already been examined and pronounced a true Shadow When you are chosen tomorrow and move into the Rat Dragon Hall, you will no longer be under my protection. You must use this Shadow status and your deformity to ensure no one sees you unclothed.'
I bowed my head. It was bad luck to bathe or sleep in the same quarters as a cripple. And a crippled eunuch would bring even worse fortune. My master had thought of everything. But there was still one problem.
'Master?'
'Yes?' He put the jar back onto the desk.
'I spoke to Armsmaster Hian today. He wished to be remembered to you.' I jammed my fingers together on my lap.
He nodded. 'I hope you thanked him for his courtesy'
'Ifes, Master.' I swallowed, a sudden dryness grabbing at my voice. 'He —'
My master pushed the two death plaques across the desk. 'Your ancestors,' he said abruptly.
'For your prayers tonight. They are only women, but they are better than nothing.'
It took me a moment to realise what he had said. 'My ancestors?'
One plaque was inscribed with the name Charra, the other, Kinra. I lifted my hand to touch them, but stopped, glancing at my master for permission.
'They are yours,' he said, nodding. 'I retrieved them from your previous master. When he bought your bond from your parents, your mother insisted the memorials stay with you.'
I stroked the smooth surface of the Charra plaque, the name and a plain border the only adornment. My mother had given these to me. A choking mix of warmth and pain rushed through me, leaving an old pang of loss. I clenched my teeth against the threat of tears. The Kinra plaque was old and worn with a faint sinuous outline of an animal under the name. Who were these women? My grandmother? My great-grandmother?
When I looked up, my master was watching me intently.
'Pray hard tonight, Eon,' he said softly. 'We cannot afford to fail.' He gestured to the plaques.
'Go, set up your altar and prepare for the cleansing ritual. You may ask Rilla for what you need.'
I was dismissed, but for the first time in four years I did not obey. I kept my eyes fixed on the chiselled name of my ancestor, Kinra, and tried to push my need into words.
'I said you may go, Eon.'
I did not move.
My master brought the heel of his hand down on the table, the crash making me jump.
I grabbe
d the armrests, glad of their solidity 'Master,' I said hoarsely I risked a look: he was scowling. Armsmaster Hian told me the Mirror Dragon sequence could be replaced with a Reverse Horse Dragon Second. Is that true, Master?'
'Why?'
I heard his voice sharpen ominously, but I had to know.
'I can't complete the Mirror Dragon Third, Master. My leg. I can't do it. If I could do the —'
I saw him move, but I was caught between the armrests. The back of his hand cracked across my ear, slamming me into the edge of the carved wood.
'You wait until now to tell me?'
My head burned from ear to jaw. I hunched around the jabbing ache in my ribs, trying to move away from his hand. The punches hammered into my thigh, shoulder, back, jarring through my whole body
'You have killed us,' he hissed.
Armsmaster Hian said you would know if it was true.' I gasped. 'Please...'
Through a blear of tears, I saw him lift his hand again. I shut my eyes and ducked my head.
My body waited for the blow; my whole existence narrowed to the fall of his fist.
No blow.
No pain.
I opened my eyes.
He was not there. I scanned the room, holding my breath. He was at the far wall, reaching up to a shelf, his fingers feverishly flicking across the scroll boxes. I carefully uncurled and ran my fingers down my ribs, jumping as they hit the swollen heart of a bruise.
He pulled a box out of the stack. 'The Chronicle of Detra. That should describe it.'
He shook the roll of priceless paper from the wooden container. The box clattered onto the floor. In a few strides he was at the desk, the whole scroll unfurled across its length. In front of me was row upon row of cramped calligraphy
'What did Hian say, exactly?' he demanded.
'He said there was a precedent for replacing the Mirror Dragon Third with the Reverse Horse Dragon Second and that Ranne was wrong to have kept it from me.'
My master's face darkened at the shift of blame.
'He also said you were one of the best history-keepers and would know if it was so,' I added hurriedly
He eyed me for a moment then turned his attention back to the scroll. His index finger hovered above the words as he read. I stayed as still as I could, searching his pale drawn face for the flame of discovery
'The alternative form was in practice five hundred years ago, before we lost the Mirror Dragon,' he finally said. 'It has not been used since.'
'Does that mean I cannot use it, Master?' I whispered.
He held up his hand. 'Quiet.' He studied the scroll again. 'I cannot see any prohibition on its use.' He shook his head. 'No, there is no reversal of its standing. It has just not been used for five hundred years.' He looked across at me, a fierce light in his eyes. 'This is a good omen. It must be a good omen.'
I straightened in the chair, the new bruises aching as they stretched. 'I can already do the Reverse Horse Dragon Second, Master. All I need to do is practise the bridging forms,' I said.
'The way must be smoothed,' he muttered, rolling up the scroll. He pulled the bell cord. The door opened and Rilla appeared.
'Order a rickshaw — I must go to the Council,' he said to her.
He turned back to me. 'Go and practise. You know what is at stake.'
I crouched out of the chair into a low bow, unable to contain the smile on my face. The Reverse Horse Dragon Second was allowed. I still had a chance.
CHAPTER 3
A touch on my arm awoke me. I was sitting slumped against the wall next to my altar, my face pressed against the cold stone. I focused on the slim figure squatting beside me in the dim light.
Rilla.
'The master will rise soon,' she said softly
A spike of apprehension cleared my head. The red prayer candle in front of the death plaques had burned to a stump of wax, and the small offering bowl of fish and rice smelled of the hours gone by. I pushed myself upright, smoothing a crease in the sleeve of my ceremonial tunic.
'I shouldn't have slept.'
Rilla touched my tightly clubbed hair. 'Don't worry No one saw you.' She stood, stifling a yawn. 'The dawn bell will ring soon. Be quick if you wish to say goodbye to Chart.'
I nodded, massaging the chill from my face and neck. My master had made the smallest of the stone storerooms at the back of the house into a dormitory for his candidates. In these summer months it was a sanctuary of cool air, but it was a bitter cell in winter. I looked around the cramped room that had been home for four years: my bed, still in its roll against the wall; an old clothes press; the writing rest where I had kneeled for such long hours and studied; and a squat earthenware brazier topped by a pot I'd found on the rubbish pile. Such luxury compared to the salt farm. Was this the last time I would see it all? Or would I be back?
'I'll send one of the girls to tell you when the master is dressed,' Rilla said, pushing open the shutters that covered the narrow window.
'Thank you, Rilla.'
She paused at the door. 'Chart and I have been praying for your success, Eon. But know also, we will miss you.'
For a moment, her eyes met mine and I saw fear and worry in the sharpened lines of her face.
Then she smiled and left. If I failed today, would my master sell Rilla and Chart? Their service bonds were not even half paid; Chart had shown me Rilla's reckoning stick hidden behind a loose brick in the kitchen.
I crossed over to the brazier, my movement releasing the rich smell of the cleansing herbs on my skin. And me? If I failed, would I be returned to the salt farm? The memory of working in the choking dust made me cough and gag. I pressed my hands on my chest feeling for the flow of Hua, the life force. All I could feel was the fine silk of the ceremonial tunic and the unyielding flatness of my tight breast-band. My master had taught me the basics of tracing my Hua through the seven points of power, but it was a technique that took a lifetime to control. I turned my mind's-eye inwards, groping along the meridians. Finally, I located the blockage: in the base of my spine, the seat of fear. I breathed slowly until the rigid knot softened.
I kneeled on the stone floor and cleaned the ashes out of the body of the brazier. Something was stirring within me. A familiar dicker of awareness. It was during my Moon days that my shadow-self — Eona — darkened into strange thoughts and uneasy feelings. It seemed that while the ghost-maker's tea had eased yesterday's cramps and prevented the bleeding, il had not yet washed the shadows away I could not afford to let Eona come forward and bring her troubling desires into my mind. I pushed her away, concentrating on stacking twigs and small slivers of charcoal in the brazier. A strike of the inch stick, and the tinder sparked into life. I blew on the wavering flame until it caught and held, then angled the pot to check the water level. There was just enough to make the tea. Perhaps this dose would chase her away If I failed, my master would not need me as a boy.
I hunched a shoulder, trying to shrug off the unwelcome thought.
Then offer him a girl's body. It was in his eyes during the cleansing ritual.
No, that was not true! There had been nothing in my master's eyes during the ritual. He'd said the words, poured the fragrant water over my head, then left me to wash and oil myself. I had seen nothing in his eyes. I leaned over the pot, urging it to heat faster. A pinch of tea in my cup, then the near-boiled water, all mixed with a twig. I drank it in one, the sting of the heat and the foul taste driving out Eona's unsettling thoughts.
The sky through the window was brightening. I tucked the pouch into my trousers and brushed specks of ash and tea off the tunic. I had worn the rich garments during my vigil to honour my new-found ancestors. They were made from the softest material I had ever worn: a close silk weave in the rich red of the candidate. Twelve gold embroidered dragons were worked around the hemline of the tunic, and the sash ends were edged with gold tassels. The cloth was like oiled water against my skin and, when it moved, the sound was the wind's whisper. No wonder the nobles acted like gods:
they'd captured the very elements in their robes. I pulled on the matching red leather slippers, flexing my feet at the unfamiliar confinement. They were edged in gold thread and had the same dragon design painted on the toes. What had all this finery cost my master?
I stood and practised a few steps of the first sequence, feeling for the difference in toe grip as I spun from the Rat Dragon First into the second form. The leather soles had greater slip than my old sandals; it could be treacherous on the hard-packed sand of the Dragon Arena. I spun again and again, adjusting my weight into the floor, enjoying the swirl of the silk tunic as it flared and settled around my body
The clang of the oven lid in the kitchen brought me to a halt. Kuno, banking the fires. It was close to dawn break and there was still much to do. I hurried over to the clothes press, digging under my folded work tunic for the scroll. After three months of snatched moments, I had finally finished it: a black ink painting of the roads and landscape around my master's house.
It was made up of scraps of mulberry paper from the paper-maker near the school; he'd allowed me to have the edges of the clean cuts and I'd stitched them together to make the roll.
The painting was in the style of the great Master Quidan — a long thin rendering that was meant to be opened in small sections for meditation upon the landscape. Would Chart like it?
I knew my artistry was poor, but perhaps it would help him imagine the world outside the kitchen. I fingered the plain wooden sticks fixed to the ends. I would miss describing our neighbourhood to him and laughing at his wicked comments.
The small inner courtyard was quiet. I tucked the scroll into my sleeve and stood for a moment in the doorway, the soft morning air and stillness moving through me like a meditation. Should I chance calling the Rat Dragon? One last look before the ceremony?
Maybe this time he would acknowledge me. I took a deep breath, narrowing my mind's-eye to the north-northwest. A shimmering outline of the dragon formed, a hint of the huge horse-like head and snake-shaped body Then the edges of the vision began to fray. My legs buckled as a hollowing drain dragged at my consciousness. I snatched all of my self back, falling painfully to my knees. I had never seen anything like it