She reached out and wrapped her arms around as many of the tree’s drooping branches as she could. They slipped through her embrace, but they had slowed her fall. She grasped hold of one strong willow bough. It didn’t snap; it bent and flexed like a length of rope and took her weight. She used the momentum of her fall to swing out over the pool. Then she let go of the branch.
The slap of the water was painful, but she was more concerned about drowning. She thrashed about in the water trying to keep her head above the surface. She sank down until she bumped against the slippery, algae-covered bottom of the pool. She didn’t allow herself to panic. She remembered how she had floated up through the green waters of the well with Kai. She pushed herself off the bottom and kicked her legs. As she resurfaced, she clutched a strangely-shaped rock that jutted out of the water. Hua swam up to her. She caught her breath and then splashed her way to the edge of the pool.
Ping dragged herself out of the water. Spots of blood were dripping into the pool. Ping ripped a strip from her sleeve and bandaged her arm as best she could with one hand. She had to ignore the pain. She picked up Hua and put him in her gown. Far above her the fire lit up the night sky. Orange flames were engulfing the balustrades of the Emperor’s balcony. She had escaped from the necromancer, but Kai was still inside the blazing lodge.
• chapter twenty-six •
MUDDY WATERS
She curled up, trying to shut out the ugly,
blackened world and her failure.
The pain in Ping’s chest made it difficult to run. She knew a little about the arrangement of bones in a body from butchering goats for Master Lan. One of her ribs had broken in the fall. As she stumbled towards the lower buildings of Ming Yang Lodge, her feet seemed to move in slow motion. Sparks showered down from the fire above. Other buildings had started to burn. If the servants and the imperial guards had been there, they might have been able to control the fire. But the flames were spreading unchecked—to the kitchens, to the Princess’s chambers. Whichever way Ping turned, the fire kept driving her back. She couldn’t get near the Hall of Peaceful Retreat. The entire lodge, every building, every pavilion, every piece of furniture was made of wood. Like a ravenous monster, the fire devoured everything in its path. Nothing was going to stop it.
Ping’s mind was a chaos of nightmare images—of the dead Dragon Attendant; of the necromancer’s grinning face; of burning buildings; of Kai limp and bleeding.
She couldn’t find the end of the fragile thread that joined her to the dragon. Her second sight searched blindly, but found nothing. Ping felt in her pouch for the shard of dragon stone. It wasn’t there. Her silk pouch had been ripped, probably by the willow branches, and the shard had fallen out. She had only just come to understand its power to focus her mind—and now she’d lost it. She should have kept the sturdy leather pouch that she’d had since Huangling, instead of accepting the flimsy silk one. It was just another mistake to add to the long list of mistakes she’d made. Despair enveloped her like a black shroud.
She had no power over the five elements. She couldn’t fight fire. All she could do was watch the lodge burn. The smoke made her eyes sting; tears streamed down her face. The dawn light revealed a desolate landscape. The imperial chambers were reduced to blackened ruins. Flames still licked and curled around the lower buildings. The trees were bare of all but a few scorched leaves. The lotus leaves on the ponds had withered. The smoke from the burning buildings had shrivelled the flowers. Not long ago, Ping had wanted the necromancer to die a horrible death, now she was praying he had escaped the fire. It was the only way Kai could have survived.
Ping crawled through the thick, black smoke that threatened to choke her as it had everything that had grown in the garden. She made her way down Ming Yang hill, past Late Spring Villa, until she found herself on the banks of the Yellow River. The river rushed by, eager to get to Ocean, unaware of the devastated lodge or her misery. Its muddy waters were as impenetrable as ever, stretching as far as she could see and giving no clue as to what lay beneath the surface. Ping drank some of the yellowish water and tried to wash the smoke from her eyes.
Crouched on the river bank, she tried to shut out the horrors of the night. She couldn’t. Saggypants was dead. The imperial lodge was destroyed. The necromancer had overpowered her. Then there was the most important thing. The one she was trying to keep out of her mind because it was unbearable.
“I can’t feel the thread,” she said to Hua.
Her second sight was unreliable, it came and went like a flame flickering in a breeze. She didn’t know how to control it. She felt sensations, but didn’t know their meaning. It was like trying to peer through the muddy waters of the river. The only thing she wanted to feel was the connection between her and Kai, but it wasn’t there. Hua crawled inside the folds of her gown. She curled up, trying to shut out the ugly, blackened world and her failure.
“I’ve found her,” a voice said.
Ping opened her eyes. A breeze had thinned the smoke. She didn’t know how long she’d been there. An imperial guard was looking down at her. There were footsteps and other guards came along the path. Minister Ji was among them.
“I’ve been searching for you for over an hour,” he said crossly.
“How did you know I was back at Ming Yang Lodge?”
The minister didn’t answer. He turned and walked away. “Follow me,” he said.
His calmness infuriated Ping. She wanted to stand up and shake him, but she didn’t have the strength. She grabbed hold of the hem of his gown.
“I’ve lost Kai,” she sobbed. This time the tears weren’t because of the smoke.
Minister Ji brushed her hands from his gown as if they were a pair of spiders.
“Your distress is entirely unnecessary,” the minister said. “The imperial dragon is with the Emperor. I have been instructed to take you to him.”
Ping couldn’t believe her ears.
“But I saw him.” Ping tried to think how long ago it had been. It seemed like days, but it couldn’t have been more than a few hours. “He was weak and bleeding. The necromancer had him.”
“The Emperor did not instruct me to stand and argue the point with you.” He turned round and strode off along the path.
Ping followed. Minister Ji seemed unconcerned about the ruined lodge.
“Ming Yang Lodge is burning,” she said. She needed to confirm that she wasn’t going mad, that she hadn’t imagined the fire.
“Most unfortunate,” Minister Ji agreed. “Rebuilding it will be an expense the Empire could do without.”
The minister walked calmly and without hurry away from Ming Yang hill. Ping tried to rearrange the facts in her head so that they made sense. How had Minister Ji known that she was back at Ming Yang Lodge? Who had rescued Kai? It was like trying to fit together the pieces of two broken jars that were jumbled together. Nothing fitted. Nothing made sense.
They came to a small inlet cut into the river bank where a boat was tied up away from the rush of the river.
“Where are you taking me?” Ping said.
The minister didn’t answer. He walked up the gangplank. Ping followed him.
The boat was smaller than the one that had carried her and Danzi down the Yellow River. But this one had a team of ten rowers, each wearing nothing put a pair of short trousers. The skin of their muscled arms was taut and shiny. With so many rowers, Ping thought that they must have been going back up the river against the current. Minister Ji sat down in the middle of the boat and arranged his gown. Ping collapsed next to him. Hua wriggled inside the folds of her gown.
A boatman untied the boat and pushed it out into the rushing current. At his command the rowers dipped their oars into the water and started rowing for all they were worth. They weren’t rowing upstream against the current. Nor were they allowing the river to carry the boat downstream. They were rowing across the river. Their muscles flexed as they plunged their oars into the yellow water again and again. They chan
ted a song to help keep their oar strokes in time. The boat made its way slowly across the great river, but Ping could feel the current pulling them downstream at the same time.
The river must have been at least four li wide. As they got closer to the opposite bank, she could see a bamboo thicket. The bamboo canes grew right to the water’s edge. They reached up to the grey sky and the newly grown tips bent back and forth in the wind as if they couldn’t decide which way to go. Ping could see no buildings among the bamboo, no dock that the boat was heading for. Meanwhile the current tugged them further and further downstream. If they were rowing across to a dock on the opposite bank, they would miss it. Neither Minister Ji nor the rowers seemed concerned. The rhythm of the oars dipping into the water never varied.
The opposite bank was now only a few chang away. Something large and black loomed into view. It was the imperial barge. Ping was suddenly aware of Kai. It was faint, but she could feel his presence again. Hope swelled within her. He was nearby. The rowers dipped their oars into the water with the exact same rhythm. Another ten-and-five strokes brought them to the dock where the imperial barge was moored. The two mooring sites on either side of the river had been built to take into account the pull of the current and the strength of the rowers.
The barge hadn’t been repainted in the new imperial yellow; it was still black. Bearers were busy unloading chests and baskets from the barge and stacking them on the dock where a wide road led off to the north. Some of the chests looked familiar. Ping followed Minister Ji up the gangplank, her legs shaky with fatigue and anticipation.
The deck was crowded with ministers, guards and servants. Liu Che was sitting on a throne on the deck. He was so thin that his gown hung off him. He was sitting with the heel of one gold embroidered shoe resting on the opposite knee as if nothing unusual had happened. Kai was on a satin cushion at the Emperor’s side. He lifted his head as if it took a great effort.
“Ping,” said the dragon.
Ping was so relieved to see him again, she didn’t care what she had been through. Minister Ji bowed to the Emperor and took his place with the other imperial ministers. Ping tried to go to the dragon, but guards barred her way.
“Are you all right, Kai?” She spoke to the dragon with her mind.
“Kai okay.”
His flute sounds were faint.
Dong Fang Suo was on his knees before the Emperor. “You are stripped of your position as Imperial Magician,” the Emperor announced.
Ping felt her heart lift. She didn’t have to tell Liu Che about Dong Fang Suo’s treachery. He already knew. The old magician crouched in front of the Emperor like a beaten dog. His face looked as crumpled as his gown. Ping glared at him triumphantly. At last she could rest. The Emperor would take care of things. She bowed before him.
“Dong Fang Suo left me to die, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ping said. “I was crushed by a falling boulder. It wasn’t an accident. He’s in league with the necromancer.”
“Be silent!” Minister Ji snapped. “The Emperor did not give you permission to speak.”
Guards pushed her to her knees and forced her head to the deck. Ping waited for Liu Che to tell the minister she could speak, but the Emperor said nothing. She turned her head so that she could see him. His eyes were as cold as polished stones, his mouth a thin, straight line. His hollow cheeks made him look older and sinister.
“I’m not very happy with Dong Fang Suo either,” the Emperor said. “I told him to make sure you were dead.”
Ping thought she couldn’t have heard him properly.
“I have appointed a new Imperial Magician.” The Emperor waved his hand.
Dread extinguished Ping’s anger. It was as if every beautiful thing in the Empire had suddenly ceased to exist. She turned her head the other way. The necromancer was climbing the stairs from below decks. He was wearing a magnificent black cape woven with red. Beneath it she glimpsed the jade vest. On his head he wore a ministerial cap. He had a red-raw burn on one side of his face. Ping lunged towards him, ready to strangle him, to gouge out his one eye for what he had done to Kai. Four imperial guards grabbed her and held her back. The necromancer sat down on a carved chair.
“What is he doing here? You don’t know what he’s done!” Ping tried to free herself from the guards.
“He killed the Dragon Attendant. He tried to kill me. He hurt Kai.”
“The necromancer was following my orders,” said the Emperor. His voice was as cold and sharp as icicles.
“But you captured him, I saw him in chains.”
The Emperor laughed. “A little performance for your benefit, Ping. To stop you from prying where you weren’t supposed to.”
Ping’s brain stopped trying to make sense of the illogical world. There was a line of ants crossing the deck. She watched them hurrying along one after the other.
“I have appointed physicians to monitor the dragon’s health,” the Emperor said calmly. “They are devising a special blood-restoring diet, so that he can be bled but stay alive.”
A sneer disfigured Liu Che’s handsome face. He smoothed a crease from his yellow gown.
“When the Touching Heaven Tower fell, I knew that there was disorder in the universe. I did not need my seers to tell me that Heaven was unhappy with some aspect of my reign. But no one could tell me what it was. I had to discover the truth myself.”
Liu Che looked at her as if she was as insignificant as the ants.
“It is you, Ping. You are what has disrupted the order of the universe. You have offended Heaven.”
“Me?”
“There has never been a female Dragonkeeper,” the Emperor continued. “It is against the laws of nature. There is no prophecy in the bamboo books, no omens predicted such an unnatural event.”
Ping looked at Kai, limp and wounded, without the strength to stand. Her tears dried up. The misery and betrayal that filled her were replaced with rage.
“That’s not true,” she said. “Danzi believed I was his Dragonkeeper. He chose me to care for Kai.”
“Do you think I would trust the word of one senile old dragon against the advice of all my ministers and the wisdom contained in the bamboo books handed down for generations?” the Emperor said. “The grain crops are failing, silkworm moths aren’t laying eggs, there are floods in the south. It’s all your fault, Ping.”
Ping was too stunned to speak.
No one had the right to disrespect Danzi. Not even the Emperor. Ping pushed the guards aside, and stood eye to eye with the Emperor.
“It isn’t me who has disturbed the harmony of the world!” Ping shouted.
The Emperor rose.
“Ever since you took the role of Dragonkeeper upon yourself, things have gone wrong,” he said. “The old dragon escaped. My father was struck by a fatal illness. The Touching Heaven Tower fell. I knew I had to restore the balance to the universe, but I couldn’t leave the dragon without a keeper. You helped me solve that problem, Ping, when you suggested I look for another Dragonkeeper. As soon as I heard that a boy had been found, I ordered your execution.”
“It’s your obsession that has disrupted the harmony of the universe,” she shouted.
She didn’t care if Liu Che was the son of Heaven. “At first you just wanted to stay young. Then you wanted to live for a thousand years. Now you want to live forever! You’re the one who has offended Heaven!”
The Emperor’s gaunt face was red with rage, his eyes full of hatred. He stepped towards her. Ping flinched thinking he was going to hit her, but instead he reached for the seal hanging from her waist. He gave it a sharp tug. The ribbon snapped. He looked at the chipped and grubby seal lying in his hand.
“You are no longer entitled to wear this seal,” he said. “I have made another new appointment—the new Imperial Dragonkeeper.”
The ministers stepped aside. A small figure moved nervously towards the Emperor. It was Jun. Instead of his ragged clothes, he wore a pale green robe. The Emperor held out the seal t
o him. Jun took the seal from the Emperor with shaking hands, almost dropping it, and bowed.
“I will serve you well, Your Imperial Majesty,” Jun said.
The boy took his place next to Kai, resting his hand on the dragon’s scaly back. He had something in his other hand. Something flat and round which caught the sunlight. It was the Dragonkeeper’s mirror. Kai moved closer to Jun.
“Boy is Kai’s friend,” he said. He was making happy flute sounds. “Fatso has plan for Ping. Kai help Fatso.”
The little dragon’s words seared Ping’s heart like red-hot coals. Her legs gave way and she collapsed to her knees.
“Now order has been restored to the universe,” the Emperor announced.
“But the necromancer … Ping stammered.
“The necromancer understands that uncommon steps must be taken to achieve great things. The Longevity Council was wasting time quibbling over ingredients like women in a kitchen, just as the scientists did. When I heard about the necromancer, I knew he had to be in my service. I have you to thank for that, Ping,” the Emperor said. “In the end, I didn’t have to find the necromancer. He presented me with an offer.”
The necromancer looked down at Dong Fang Suo, who was still crouching on the deck. “You are weak, Dong. You and your council only offered the Emperor long life. I guaranteed him immortality.”
“He bled Kai,” Ping said, but even her voice had lost its strength.
“This is why I had to replace you,” the Emperor sneered. “Your first allegiance should have been to me, not the dragon. The necromancer bled the dragon on my orders.”
Ping’s head was reeling. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.