Eon: Dragoneye Reborn

  before. Panting, I leaned against the doorframe and turned my attention inwards, clumsily tracing the flow of my Hua. There didn't seem to be any damage and my strength was already returning. Maybe it had happened because the Rat Dragon was ascending today. I took a few deep breaths, then pulled myself upright and headed slowly to the kitchen. At least the strange mind-sight that had brought me to this day was still within me. Whether that meant anything to the Rat Dragon would soon be made clear.

  At the kitchen door, I slipped off the shoes then stepped inside. Kuno was standing over the stoves stirring my master's morning soup. The smell of the rich broth and steaming buns made my stomach pinch. I licked my lips, remembering the piece of bread hidden in my room.

  'E...on?' Chart peered around the leg of the preparation table. He rolled his eyes at my finery

  'Little lord.'

  Kuno sniffed at me as I brushed past him and squatted painfully beside Chart.

  'There'll be hell to pay if he dirties those new robes of yours,' Kuno said. He stamped across the kitchen and disappeared into the dry-goods pantry.

  Chart twisted closer to me. He touched the bottom of the tunic. 'So soft...like a girl's bottom.'

  'How would you know,' I scoffed.

  'Know more...than you.' He waggled his eyebrows. 'Maids think...poor Chart...doesn't...know what he's doing.'

  I shook my head at his cheerful lewdness. 'I have something for you,' I said, pulling the scroll out and placing it on his mat.

  He touched it, his eyes wide. 'Real paper?' He looked up at me quizzically 'You know...don't read.'

  'It's not words,' I said. 'Open it.'

  He hoisted himself onto an elbow and slowly pulled apart the wooden handles. I watched his puzzlement smooth into understanding. Then his face tightened.

  'I know it's not very good,' I said quickly 'But see, that is the crossroad at the bottom of the laneway' I pointed to the place on the scroll. And that is old Rehon's pig. See, I've drawn it in the middle of Kellon the moneylender's vegetable garden...' I stopped. Chart had turned his face away

  'I know it's not very good,' I said again.

  Chart shook his head, pushing his face into his shoulder.

  Was he crying? I sat back. Chart did not cry

  He touched my hand, a clumsy press of bone-thin fingers against mine, and took a deep, trembling breath.

  'I have...something...for you too,' he said. He glanced at the pantry doorway.

  'Quick...before...Kuno comes.'

  I held out my hand, expecting more bread or cheese. Instead something heavy hit my palm. A coin, covered in grime. I ran my thumb over it and saw a flash of gold: a Tiger coin, more than three months' wages for a freeman. And a certain flogging if discovered.

  'Where'd you get it?' I whispered.

  'I...not stuck...to this mat,' he said, grinning slyly

  'Did you steal it from the master?'

  He pulled himself towards me with his elbow, his contorted hand batting the question away

  'Heard Kuno...and Irsa talking...last night,' he whispered, his shoulders and throat tense with the strain of lowering his voice. I bent closer until I felt his warm breath against my ear.

  'Master... sell you...back to salt farm..if you...not Dragoneye. Sell you...like the boys before.' I flinched back, but Chart raised his body to follow me, frowning with the effort. 'If you not...chosen...you must...run away. To...the islands.' Panting, he dropped back against his mat.

  Run away? But I was in bond — I had always belonged to a master. I tightened my grip on the coin. That was not quite true. There had been a time when there was a family and no master. I had memories, more impression than image, of a mother on a beach, a father hunched over nets, and a baby brother beside me in a straw bed.

  'What about you?' I said.

  Chart snorted. 'Run?'

  I held out the coin. 'You should keep it,' I said. 'You and Rilla might need it.'

  Chart caught hold of my hand. The muscles in his neck twitched and bulged as he struggled to hold his head still. 'Mother knows. She said...give it...to you.'

  I stared at him. Rilla thought I should run away too?

  'You still here?' Kuno said, swinging a sack of beans onto the table. Chart and I jumped apart.

  'You'd better get moving or you'll keep the master waiting.'

  Chart closed my fingers around the coin. 'Goodbye... Eon...Go...with...good fortune.'Amidst the twitches of his head, I saw a nod of encouragement.

  I stood up and bowed, low and deep — a bow for an honoured friend. As I straightened, he turned his face away his narrow jaw set.

  'Thank you,' I whispered.

  He didn't look up but I saw his hand clutch the scroll closer to his chest.

  Outside, I stood for a moment in the half-light, steadying my breath. Could I really run away if I was not chosen? Maybe I could look for my parents. But then, they had sold me and I would be returning as a runaway. I doubted I would be welcomed back.

  It was only a few minutes to dawn. I still had to pack my belongings. And hide the coin. The warm weight of it pulsed in my hand. Where would it be safe? I pushed my feet back into the leather shoes and ran across the courtyard. Perhaps in my brush and ink box? I paused in the doorway, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. Just inside was a straw travel basket, already packed. Rilla must have done it for me. If I was chosen, my master would have it delivered to me at the Rat Dragon Hall. I opened my hand and

  studied the coin. It wasn't big — maybe I could press it into the soft back of my ink block. I scrabbled through the basket and found my writing box. What was I thinking? If I failed and had to run away, I could not come back for my things. The coin had to stay with me. I looked down at my costly silk tunic. Would it fit in the tea pouch? But Chart always said you should never hide two forbidden things together. The hem? I turned the tunic over and studied the fine stitching. If I unpicked a section covered by the embroidered tail of a dragon, I could slide the coin inside and no one would see its outline.

  I found my eating knife and slit a stitch, carefully pulling out a section to save the thread.

  Nearby, the dawn bell rang. It was nearly time. With shaking hands, I worked the coin into the hem. Would it show? I smoothed the tunic back in place and tried to gauge the effect. It dragged at the cloth, but not enough to be noticed. I lifted the shelf in the clothes press and pulled my needle tube out of the hole I had carved in the wood. Dolana, my only friend at the salt farm, had given it to me before she died of the coughing; a precious gift. My fingers were clumsy as I tried to thread the fine silk into a needle. Finally it slipped through the eye. The hem closed with a few large stitches. Just as I tied off and cut the strand, Irsa appeared at the doorway

  'What are you doing?' she demanded.

  I let the tunic drop. 'Loose thread.' I closed my fist around the needle, hiding it from view. 'Is the master ready?'

  Irsa eyed the tunic suspiciously. 'He says you are to go to the front courtyard.'

  I ostentatiously tossed my knife back into the travel basket. 'Thank you.'

  She didn't move.

  'I know where the front courtyard is, Irsa.'

  She crossed her arms. 'You're a sorry creature for the master to pin his hopes on, Eon. But I hope for your sake, and ours, that you succeed.'

  She sniffed and left. I waited for a moment, listening to her retreat, then slid the needle back into its case and pushed it back into the hole. It would be hard to leave it behind, but I could not risk packing a woman's tool. Irsa or one of the other maids would no doubt pick through the basket as soon as I left.

  The importance of the day pressed in on me. I ground my palms together, trying to rub away the damp anxiety There was no time to eat Chart's bread, but it didn't matter; I was no longer hungry. Perhaps the rat would find it; another offering to the Rat Dragon.

  I scanned the room one last time. And suddenly I knew that it was the last time; if I failed, I would run away The knowledge swept over me like
a monsoon rain. I turned and stepped into the courtyard, the life-changing decision marked only by the twitching ear of the kitchen cat.

  My master was already waiting in the front courtyard. The wood and wicker palanquin he used for official journeys was resting on the lift stones. A hired team of four bearers was standing patiently between the carrying shafts — two at the front, two at the rear — their broad shoulders padded with thick leather. I caught their curious glances as I hurried past.

  They were not the only ones; the whole household had gathered in the doorways and windows of the house to watch our departure. I searched for a friendly face. Chart was not there — too far for him to crawl — but Lon raised a hand in salute, and Kuno, to my surprise, ducked his head in a quick bow. Then I saw Rilla standing behind my master, her eyes properly lowered.

  She glanced up as I approached, her quick smile giving me courage.

  I bowed to my master. He was wearing his court robes: a long midnight blue tunic with silver embroideries girdled by a red sash of intricately pleated silk. His colourless face was framed by a high fluted collar, the graceful curve making his gaunt hollows even more pronounced.

  He looked old, and he looked ill.

  'Turn,' he said, motioning with an elegant blackwood staff.

  I obeyed, the swirl of the tunic making the coin hit the back of my thigh. It was hard not to look down to check the strength of my stitching.

  'Good,' he said. He turned to Rilla. 'My cap?'

  She carefully placed the red skullcap on his shaved head. He glanced around the silent courtyard then held out his hand, leaning on Rilla's outstretched arm to step up into the palanquin.

  'The tribute?' he said, settling himself down on the silk cushioned seat.

  Rilla held up a small wooden casket, highly polished and inlaid with sea-pearl. He placed it on his knee then beckoned to me.

  I gingerly climbed into the palanquin, smoothing my tunic before sitting next to him on the cushions. The wicker walls seemed very flimsy I pushed against the side next to me. It creaked.

  My master studied me for a moment from under hooded eyelids. T can assure you, Eon, it is quite safe.'

  'Yes, Master.'

  He tapped his staff on the shoulder of the bearer in front of him. 'We shall depart,' he ordered.

  As one, the bearers bent and lifted the palanquin. I braced my feet against the floor and grabbed the canopy post as they hoisted us onto their shoulders. So high. Rilla was looking up at me, mouthing the words 'good luck'. I tried to smile, but the ground was too far away and the strange lurching motion made me dizzy. I closed my eyes. When I finally opened them, we were already passing the stone lions at the front gate.

  I looked back. Only Rilla was still in the courtyard, her hand raised. Before I could wave, we turned into the side road and she disappeared from my view. Did she know I would miss her?

  I faced the front again, warily watching the two lead bearers. They seemed to know what they were doing; perhaps we would not fall to our deaths. My master bent his head down to inc.

  'Has the tea been effective?' he asked quietly

  'Yes, Master.'

  He grunted his satisfaction. And you have perfected the bridging forms?'

  I nodded.

  He stared ahead, the skin around his eyes tight with strain. 'The Council has grudgingly accepted the Horse Second variation,' he said. 'They did so only because they do not consider you a viable candidate. Ascendant Ido, in particular, was dismissive.'

  There was loathing in my master's voice. He had long distrusted the current Rat Dragoneye.

  Lord Ido had come to full Dragoneye status early due to the sudden death of his master. Too early, according to some. Now that today started the Year of the Rat, Ido was the Ascendant Dragoneye. For one year his powers would be doubled and he would lead the Dragoneye Council in its task of manipulating the earth energies for the good of the Empire. He would not have made it easy for my master to plead my case.

  'When you are chosen, be very careful of Lord Ido.'

  'Yes, Master,' I said, then cast a silent apology to the gods for my master's arrogance.

  He rubbed at his eyes. 'Ido will persecute you for the very fact that you were my candidate.

  You will, of course, have to attend him for training in the dragon arts, but avoid him when you can. He is...' My master paused, searching for the right words. 'Treacherous and unpredictable. You will also be spending a good deal of time with Master Tellon learning the Staminata. He is a good man, but keep your wits about you — he is a keen observer.'

  'The Staminata?'

  A smile touched my master's bloodless lips. Ahh, the Council would strip me of my Heuris status if they knew I'd spoken to you about the Staminata.' He looked sideways at me.

  Although such an indiscretion pales in comparison to what else I have done.' He bent closer. 'The Staminata is the mental and physical training required to become a full Dragoneye. It is intended to help the apprentice bear the energy drains required to commune with the dragon he serves.'

  'Is it difficult, Master? The communing?' I asked, sensing that he was, for once, in an expansive mood.

  He stared down at the casket on his lap. 'Difficult?' He smiled humourlessly. 'Is it difficult to take the land's life force and twist it to your bidding? To clear energy blocks built of ancient dreads and narrow thinking? To untangle the past, present and future and knit it into another possibility?' He sighed. 'Yes, Eon, it is difficult and painful and exhilarating. And it will kill you.' He looked over at me, his eyes dark. As it has killed me.'

  It was said almost as a challenge, but I did not look away from his hollow gaze.

  'Better to die in such service,' I said, tightening my grip on the post, 'than to die labouring in a salt farm.'

  He blinked at my vehemence. 'There are worse ways to die than choking on salt,' he said softly.

  I had to look away then; away from the strange softening of his eyes.

  'And the Staminata, Master?' I asked quickly 'Will I be able to do it?'

  'It is not like the approach sequence,' he said. 'There will be no swordmaster drilling you endlessly The Staminata does not rely upon brute strength or agility — it is a mixture of meditation and movement. Once you have learned the basic form, it is up to you to develop your mastery and thus your mental and physical stamina.'

  'It's what you do in the Moon Garden, isn't it?' I said.

  He tilted his head to the side. And how would you know that, Eon?'

  I shook my head, unwilling to answer with the truth. Nor would my master want to hear that I knew by intuition — the irrational knowledge only claimed by women.

  'Yes, it is what I practise in the Moon Garden,' he said. 'For all the good it does me.' He looked out ahead with a bitter smile. 'Until recently, I did not regret my calling. Now, I find that I resent not having a future.' When he turned back to me, I saw the fierce light in his eyes that I had seen during the cleansing ritual. He reached towards me, as though to stroke my cheek. I flinched and he dropped his hand, his face once more a mask of cool irony.

  'That bargain was made a long time ago,' he said, almost to himself.

  I drew back into the corner of the seat and brushed my hand over the coin. Would it be enough to buy my way to the islands? Although he had withdrawn to his own corner, I could still feel my master's gaze pressing against me. I pretended to be absorbed by the passing view. We had turned into the main thoroughfare of the city that led to the Dragon Arena. It was just past dawn but the street was already lined with curious onlookers, the house-shop shutters open and the vendors hawking for business. A man noticed our palanquin and yelled, his call rippling along the street until we became the focus of attention. Faces turned up to watch us pass by: excited, sceptical, searching, disdainful. Then a murmur started, the soft words shifting through the crowd like leaves shivering in a breeze: it's the cripple.

  I straightened in the seat, my hands in tight fists, and kept my eyes fixed on the
banners that billowed above the entrance to the arena. Every so often, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the familiar jab of a ward-evil gesture.

  'Does your leg pain you?' my master suddenly asked. In the four years I'd been in his service, he had never asked me about my leg.

  'Not a lot,' I said, stumbling over the lie.

  He gave a curt nod, his face even more unreadable. 'But it has proved useful.'

  The lead bearer called to his team and we stopped outside the gated entrance of the arena. A huge gilded carving of the Mirror

  Dragon — the Emperor's symbol — swirled across the lintel. On either side, the heavy supporting pillars were decorated with two ferocious door gods, their carved sword hands rubbed flat by years of people seeking protection. I peered through the crisscrossed slats of the heavy gate, but only saw a dim corridor and the bright flare of sand.

  The lead bearer looked back at my master for instructions.

  'Follow the wall until we come to the Portal of the Twelve Heavenly Animals,' my master said, pointing to the left.

  We moved slowly around the periphery of the arena, passing the bright jade and gold Emperor's Gate through which the Eternal Son of Heaven would make his entrance. The grand boulevard that spanned the distance from gate to the outer precinct of the Imperial Palace was already lined with people, most holding handmade red flags for the new Ascendant and apprentice. Last Ascension Day I stood in that crowd and watched as Amon, the new Pig Dragon apprentice, was showered with flags of good fortune on his way to the Dragon Hall. Would I be walking behind the Emperor's horse in a few hours, a rain of red paper falling on my head?

  'Sit still, Eon,' my master ordered.

  I leaned back into the seat, turning away from the staring crowd that was collecting around the Emperor's Gate. Ahead, an open palanquin was waiting outside the Portal of the Twelve Heavenly Animals. We stopped a little way behind it and I recognised the delicate shape of Dillon's head and the fat neckless form of Heuris Bellid. Their bearer team slowly lowered the palanquin onto two large lift stones. Dillon climbed out, turning to help his massive master down to the ground. In braver moments, when we were alone, Dillon called him Master Belly I stifled a smile as Bellid adjusted the red pleated sash over his huge gut then waved the palanquin away.