“It’s all right, Dong,” Liu Che said. “Ping wasn’t to know I would be here.”
He rolled up the book he was reading and put it back in a chest that was overflowing with books. “Kai isn’t here. I haven’t seen him today.”
Ping didn’t ask about the books, but the Emperor explained their presence anyway.
“These bamboo books have arrived from the capital Chang’an,” the Emperor said. “They are all the books in the imperial library concerning dragons. I sent messengers to fetch them.”
“They must have arrived very quickly,” Ping said, remembering how long it had taken her and Danzi to journey from Chang’an even though they had travelled much of the way on the rushing Yellow River. It was only a week since Kai’s sudden appearance at Ming Yang Lodge.
“Messengers ran day and night and were there in less than four days. A swift boat carried the books from Chang’an.”
She looked at a book that lay open on the floor. It was made of thin strips of bamboo bound together side by side. Each strip had a column of characters written on it. To her, the characters were meaningless jumbles.
Ping sighed. “I wish I could read them.”
The Emperor took the book and ran his finger down a column of characters.
“It says that Emperors have kept dragons for thousands of years,” he said, following the characters with his finger. “They bring luck.”
“Danzi told me that if the imperial dragons are happy, it is a good omen for the Emperor,” Ping told him. “If they are miserable, it is a sign that he isn’t managing the Empire well.”
At that moment Kai came running into the room. He had something in his mouth.
“What have you got there, Kai?”
“Nothing,” he said.
The little dragon stuck his head under a low table in an attempt to hide.
“I can still see you,” Ping said.
She pulled the dragon out from under the table by his tail.
Ping tried to take whatever it was from his mouth. He wouldn’t let go. She pulled until it ripped in two. She held up her half. It was a piece of chewed leather, slimy with dragon saliva. It took her a while to work out what it was—or rather what it had been.
“Kai!” Ping exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be chewing Saggypants’s shoe. That’s very naughty!”
The Emperor laughed. “Who is Saggypants?”
“That’s what Kai calls the Dragon Attendant,” Ping replied.
Kai found his silk ball in a corner of the chamber. He put it into the Emperor’s lap.
“Lu-lu play,” he said.
“What does he want, Ping?”
“He wants you to play ball with him, Your Imperial Majesty.”
The Emperor picked up the ball and examined it as if he had never seen such a thing before. He put it down at the dragon’s feet. Kai’s spines drooped. Liu Che looked uncomfortable. Ping got the feeling he’d never had much chance to play with a ball.
Ping threw the ball for Kai who chased it across the room, skidding around on the polished wooden floor.
The Emperor smiled. “I think we can safely say that the imperial dragon is happy,” he said, getting to his feet. “Appoint scholars to read these books most carefully, Dong. I want to find out everything I can about dragons. Of all the creatures in the Empire, they live the longest. We must discover what it is that gives them such longevity.”
“If I could learn to read, I could save you the trouble of appointing people to do the job,” Ping said.
“Unfortunately, at the moment there is no one with the time to give reading lessons,” Liu Che said.
“I can teach Ping to read,” said a quiet voice from the doorway.
It was Princess Yangxin. She had just entered. It was the first time Ping had heard her speak.
Ping thought she saw a flicker of annoyance pass over the Emperor’s face.
“That won’t be necessary,” Liu Che said. “I’m sure someone can be found for these duties.”
“I would like to take on this task,” the Princess persisted. “It would help me pass the days.”
The Emperor’s mouth softened. He took his sister’s hand and smiled at her. “Very well,” he said.
Ping thought she must have misread his expression. Liu Che would never be annoyed with his sister.
The next morning Princess Yangxin’s lady-in-waiting came to take Ping to her first reading lesson. Ping had seen Lady An before. She was always near the Princess—sitting in the shadows, walking a few steps behind, watching in case her mistress needed anything. Lady An was a woman of about three-times-ten years old who moved with the same quiet grace as the Princess. She hardly said a word to Ping, but her gentle face was friendly and encouraging. She led Ping to the Rustling Bamboo Pavilion where Ping had seen the Princess crying.
Ping stopped at the bamboo canes that ringed the pavilion. Lady An showed her the secret to getting through the bamboo curtain. The canes were not planted in a circle at all, it was an illusion. They were actually planted in a spiral and a narrow path curled alongside the canes and eventually found its way to the pavilion. Ping waited for Lady An to follow her, but the older woman shook her head.
“Come in, Ping,” the Princess said.
Ping bowed to the Princess. “It is very generous of you to spend your time teaching me, Your Imperial Majesty.”
It was the first time Ping had seen Princess Yangxin close up. Her hair was arranged in an elegant swirl, held in place with silver combs. A jade bird decoration was perched on top. It had delicate wings made of silver as thin as silk cloth that trembled whenever the Princess moved her head. She wore a pale blue gown with beads and tiny silver discs sewn onto it in flower patterns. The ornaments that hung from her ears were lotus flowers made of gold. The Princess’s eyes still looked sad, but her mouth was upturned in a small smile. She was older than her brother. Ping guessed she was about twice-ten years old.
Ping felt plain and clumsy in the company of this beautiful young woman, whose every move was graceful. Even when she brushed away a fly, it seemed like a part of an elegant dance. Ping was wearing a new gown and had taken care to brush her hair and plait it neatly, but sitting next to the Princess, she still felt like a grubby slave.
When Danzi had taught Ping to count, ten numbers were all she had needed to learn. All the other thousands and thousands of numbers could be formed using just those ten numbers. She had expected that learning to read would be just as easy once she understood the system.
“Words are not as simple as numbers,” the Princess explained as she unrolled a bamboo book. “There is a different character for each word. To learn to read you must learn thousands of individual characters.”
Ping’s heart sank. She looked at the book that was laid open on the Princess’s lap. Each character consisted of a combination of strokes—lines, curves and dots. It seemed impossible to differentiate one from another. The Princess pointed out that some characters had only three or four strokes, while others had as many as twice-ten.
Ping wanted to learn the character for dragon first, but it was far too complicated. She started instead with Kai, which had only four strokes. Her own name was harder consisting of ten-and-one strokes, but she wanted to be able to write it. The Princess had brought ink, brushes and a length of undyed silk for Ping to practise her characters on.
“That seems like a terrible waste of silk,” Ping said, imagining the lengths of cloth she would use up before she got the characters right.
“We have plenty of silk,” the Princess replied. “But if you would rather, you can use calfskin. The ink will wash off, so you can use the calfskin over and over again.”
Ping picked up the brush and dipped it in the ink. Her hand trembled as she tried to copy the four strokes that the Princess had made on the calfskin. The Princess’s characters were light and flowing just like her movements. Ping’s were fat and splodgy.
“Perhaps you’d write better if you used your right hand,
” the Princess said.
“No,” replied Ping. “My writing would be much worse.”
She tried again.
“It will take a lot of practice until I get them right,” she said. “I can’t bear the thought of wasting all that ink. Can’t I write the characters in the dirt with a stick first, until I get the stroke order and length right? Then I can use ink.”
They went out into the garden and found a garden bed that had been dug over and would remain unplanted till spring. Ping found a straight stick and drew the two characters in the dirt. She preferred this method, which enabled her to quickly erase her ugly attempts at copying the Princess’s beautiful characters.
Princess Yangxin tried to encourage her.
“You will need to recognise at least two thousand characters to be able to read a book,” she said airily, as if it was no more difficult than learning how to milk a goat or sweep out an ox stall. “If you learn two characters each day you will soon be there.”
Ping wasn’t much good with characters, but she had become quite skilled with numbers. She made a calculation in her head. At the rate of two characters a day it would take more than two years before she could read a book. She had only just got used to the fact that she had a future at all, now that Liu Che had decided not to execute her. She hadn’t really given much thought to the years ahead, but it seemed that the Princess at least was expecting her to stay at the Garden of the Purple Dragon.
“But you’ll be returning to Yan soon won’t you?” Ping asked.
The Princess’s smile disappeared.
“No,” she replied quietly. “I will not be returning to Yan.”
• chapter fourteen •
THE RAT AND THE PRINCESS
“It would be nice to go beyond the
walls,” said a voice behind her.
Ping turned round. It was the Princess.
Kai no longer complained that he was hungry. He seemed to get bigger every day. In fact he was getting quite podgy. Every evening he and Ping ate with the Emperor, the Princess and the ministers in the Hall of Cool Fragrance. The meals were long and lavish consisting of six courses. Kai wasn’t the only one who was getting fatter.
Ping looked from her bowl, piled with pickled pork in jackal broth, baked crane stuffed with lentils and bitter herbs, to the Emperor’s bowl which contained one egg and some seeds.
“Aren’t you hungry, Liu Che?” Ping asked.
Unlike Ping and Kai, the Emperor was looking thinner.
“The Longevity Council has devised a special diet for me. They say it will help prolong my life.” He picked up a sunflower seed with his chopsticks and ate it as if it was a tasty delicacy. “I am to eat small meals consisting of cranes’ eggs, leeks, sunflower seeds and peaches. Instead of wine, I must drink potions which contain ground pearls and gold dust.”
Ping remembered the huge meals Liu Che had eaten on her first visit to Ming Yang Lodge. Then he had thought a five-course banquet was a light meal.
Each day Ping went to the Rustling Bamboo Pavilion and Princess Yangxin patiently taught her two new characters. The lessons didn’t take long. Afterwards, Ping walked in the Garden of the Purple Dragon, looking at the flowers and the autumn leaves—just for their beauty, not because they might contain caterpillars. If she saw dragonflies flit on the surface of pools, she taught herself to enjoy the scene and not jump up to catch them.
It seemed strange not to have to tend to Kai’s needs, but whenever she saw him frolicking around the garden, she couldn’t deny that he was happier and healthier than he had ever been. Now that others were caring for his daily needs, she could concentrate on learning to read, so that she could study the books and become as knowledgeable as the Dragonkeepers of old. It would take a long time. She imagined what the garden would look like at other times of the year, and looked forward to being there in spring.
Ping didn’t have to worry about Kai now that he had the Emperor’s protection. Kai was soon as familiar with Ming Yang Lodge and the Garden of the Purple Dragon as if he had lived there all his life. He chased pheasants, swam in the ornamental pools, and hid from the unfortunate Saggypants. He knew that it was the Dragon Attendant’s job to take care of him, but Kai chose to make his life as difficult as possible.
Ping finally had the security and companionship that she had been wishing for. She was Liu Che’s friend again, Hua came to visit her most nights, but she still wasn’t at peace. She couldn’t understand why, deep down, she felt uneasy. Something was troubling her, like an itch or a splinter in her foot. She didn’t know what it was until one afternoon when she was sitting in a quiet chamber talking to Dong Fang Suo—or at least the Imperial Magician was questioning her.
“But if you have this second sight concerning dragons,” the Imperial Magician asked, “why didn’t you know that the dragon stone was an egg?”
It was a cold, drizzly afternoon and they were sitting in Late Spring Villa on the western slope of Ming Yang hill. Latticed windows in the shape of four-petalled flowers looked out on three sides. The windows were open despite the chilly weather. Dong Fang Suo had been quizzing Ping about her dragon-keeping skills. She was listening to the soft call of doves sheltering under the eaves and only half her attention was on the Imperial Magician’s questions.
“I didn’t say I was a good Dragonkeeper,” Ping replied. “I still know very little about dragon rearing. Danzi kept the knowledge from me.” She felt a familiar ripple of frustration with the old dragon. “He didn’t think I was ready for it.”
Dong Fang Suo nodded wisely and stifled a yawn.
Ping watched the raindrops drip from the corner of the roof. A thought came to her that she hadn’t considered since she had been living on Tai Shan.
“Dong Fang Suo, there’s something I’d like to speak to you about,” Ping said.
The Imperial Magician stopped nodding and raised one caterpillar eyebrow.
“Even if I live to be extremely old, I will die while Kai is still a very young dragon,” Ping said. “If he’s to be properly cared for he’ll need other Dragonkeepers after I die.”
Ping glanced over to where Kai had discovered his own image in a bronze mirror.
“I imagine you have a long life to look forward to,” Dong Fang Suo replied. “We won’t need to think about other Dragonkeepers for many years.”
Kai was standing stock-still gaping at the other dragon who had appeared in front of him.
“Yes, but unexpected things can happen. What if I become ill? What if the necromancer still wants me dead?”
The mention of the necromancer seemed to jolt the Imperial Magician awake.
Kai was startled when the other dragon sat down and scratched its ear at exactly the same moment that he did. He hid behind a painted screen.
“You are under the protection of the Emperor now, Ping,” Dong Fang Suo continued. “No one will harm you. Should you become ill you will have the best physicians in the Empire taking care of you.”
The little dragon timidly crept up to the mirror again.
“I know we will be well cared for here,” Ping said, “but …
“If the Longevity Council can enable the Emperor to live for thousands of years as he wishes,” Dong Fang Suo interrupted, “His Imperial Majesty will be the dragon’s companion all his life.”
Ping had thought that Liu Che’s pursuit of long life was just a whim, but it was becoming an obsession. He had changed a lot in the half year since she had seen him last. She wondered how different he would be in a thousand years.
Kai made a loud squawk to scare off the strange creature that was staring at him. Seeing the other dragon open its mouth wide alarmed him. He ran and buried his head under a cushion.
“He will still need a keeper,” Ping said.
The Imperial Magician yawned again. His afternoon nap was overdue.
“No one knows the importance of the dragon more than the Emperor.”
“I know the Emperor will care for Kai no matter
what happens, but I’m the only one who can hear his voice. I’m the one who can understand what he says. Without me, he is no more than a dumb animal—a pet.”
Kai crouched down and then sprang at the mirror, banging his head on it. He yelped. The Dragon Attendant had been hovering around outside. He rushed in and fussed over him anxiously.
“He’s just small and silly at the moment,” Ping continued, “but as he grows he will become wise like Danzi. The Emperor might want to seek his advice. Without a Dragonkeeper he will have no way to communicate with Kai.”
“The Emperor looks forward to a long association with Kai, drawing on the dragon’s knowledge and blessing.”
Kai’s injured sounds stopped as soon as Saggypants offered him treats of crushed snails and chickens’ feet.
Dong Fang Suo nodded as he thought about what Ping had said. He kept nodding. Ping waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. His head came to rest on his chest. He had fallen asleep.
Ping left the Imperial Magician and went out into the garden. She looked out over the view. She could see the Tiger Forest, farmers’ fields, a bend of the Yellow River. From that distance the walls surrounding the Garden of the Purple Dragon seemed small enough to jump over.
“It would be nice to go beyond the walls,” said a voice behind her.
Ping turned round. It was the Princess.
“But we are both confined by them.”
Ping looked back at the world beyond the walls. She had been enjoying life at Ming Yang Lodge so much, it hadn’t occurred to her that she couldn’t leave if she wanted to. But Princess Yangxin was right. It seemed the Princess couldn’t leave either. Ping looked back, but the Princess was gone.
Early one morning Ping was staring up at the Touching Heaven Tower. The golden Immortal stood as patient as ever, catching the star dew that made people live long. She had been lying awake since well before dawn thinking about what would happen to Kai after she died. It wouldn’t be just a matter of finding a single Dragonkeeper to take her place. Even if she did find someone suitable, they would eventually die and another would have to be found. And another. Kai could live for twice a thousand years or more. Many good Dragonkeepers would have to be found. And she wouldn’t be there to oversee their appointment. A thought had occurred to her in the dark hours of night. What if she could get some of the star dew to drink? Then she wouldn’t have to worry about finding other Dragonkeepers. She could live as long as a dragon.