“Iron hurt Kai,” said a voice in Ping’s head.
The little dragon, still glowing in the light of the full moon, was at her feet. Ping kicked the knife away.
“Don’t need knife. Have Kai.”
She remembered how she had cut her own flesh. She had just the tool she needed. As she bent to pick up Kai, the necromancer grabbed hold of the glowing knife and hurled it at her. Dong Fang Suo lunged forward. The red-hot knife pierced the old man’s chest and he fell.
Ping took hold of the dragon’s left forepaw. She ran at the necromancer and with Kai’s longest talon sliced open one of the healed scars on the necromancer’s belly. The necromancer roared with pain and anger. Black blood and pus spurted from the scar. A putrid smell filled the air. He directed his power at her. It knocked her off her feet, but it had weakened and the vest protected her. He picked up Jun’s sword and swung it at her. Ping focused her own power and knocked it aside.
“The other scars, Ping,” Dong Fang Suo gasped.
Ping slashed another scar on his belly and another. The stench was terrible. The necromancer sank to his knees as lumps of greenish, rotten liver oozed out of the cuts and slid to the ground.
Ping saw the glint form in his eye. She crouched down to avoid his stare, scraped up a handful of dirt and threw it into his face. His arms lashed out blindly and tried to push her aside, but his power was fading and Ping had the strength to resist. The air around him distorted as he tried to shape-change, but he couldn’t do it. Kai’s black talon cut the thread that held together the edges of the newest wound. A piece of fresh liver was wedged in the cut. Ping hooked it out with the talon. The necromancer slumped forward on his hands and knees.
A sudden unnatural gust of icy wind spiralled around Ping, blowing dirt and leaves into her eyes. The wind blew around her and through her, chilling her heart. A sound like a screech of anger filled the air.
Dong Fang Suo was weak, but he was still alive.
“Dig a hole, Ping,” he whispered. “Quickly. Souls that have been denied a place in Heaven create the angriest ghosts. Bury the pieces of liver.”
Ping put Kai down at a safe distance and gouged a hole in the earth, scraped the grizzly meat into it and covered it over.
Dong Fang Suo muttered a prayer, asking the eternal souls of the angry ghosts to find their way to Heaven.
The screech trailed off into a sigh of relief and then faded away completely. The wind died but the air remained icy. Ping didn’t know who the necromancer’s other three victims were, but she prayed they had an easy journey to Heaven.
Heavy clouds blotted out the night sky completely. With the moonlight gone, Kai no longer glowed.
Ping hugged him close. “Are you all right?”
He nodded.
“Fatso not all right,” he said.
Ping went over to the broken body of the old magician. Blood soaked the front of his gown. She looked into his eyes and knew he wouldn’t live.
The necromancer was still on his hands and knees. Jun looked at him with disgust.
“You must kill him,” Jun said. “He will always be evil.”
Ping shook her head. “No. Heaven decides the time to live and die.”
Dong Fang Suo nodded slowly.
“What will we do with him?” Ping asked.
“Let him go,” the Imperial Magician said. “He has sealed his fate with his own hands. The rotting flesh has poisoned his body. He will die soon enough without your assistance.”
The necromancer struggled to his feet. Ping could see now that it wasn’t the moonlight that was responsible for the grey pallor of his skin. That was its actual colour. The rotten smell wafted from his poisoned body with every movement. When he looked at Ping, there was no magical glint in his one eye, just fear and defeat. He limped off into the bamboo grove, bent and broken, like an old man.
Ping crouched down beside Dong Fang Suo.
“He is losing his life’s blood,” she said to Jun. “See if you can find some moss to staunch the bleeding.”
Jun hurried off into the darkness.
“Don’t concern yourself with me,” Dong Fang Suo whispered.
Ping took his hand. “I misjudged you,” she said. “I blamed you for everything.”
“I made many mistakes. I was too afraid of losing my imperial position to oppose the Emperor and his scheme to gain immortality. I didn’t try to stop him when he wanted to kill you, when he started bleeding Kai. It did me no good. He still turned against me.”
Jun knelt beside Ping and handed her some moss. She placed it over the wound.
“On the barge, I heard the necromancer tell the Emperor that he intended to cut out your liver.” Ping had to lean close to hear what the old man was saying. “I had to try and put things right. Jun wanted to help.”
Ping turned to Jun.
“I thought you wanted to be Dragonkeeper.”
The boy shook his head.
“Not when I saw what the necromancer had done to Kai,” Jun said, “I knew I couldn’t defeat him, but I hoped you could, Ping.”
“And you told Kai what you were planning?”
“No. I can’t speak to Kai in my head like you do.”
Jun hung his head and wouldn’t look at her.
“But …
“I lied when I said I could understand him. In the carriage, I pretended I understood what he said. My mother made up the stories about me having second sight.” He finally looked up, peeping at Ping through his fringe. “I’m not even naturally left-handed. My parents wanted me to have the position of Dragonkeeper. When I was small, they tied my right hand behind my back to force me to use my left hand. Don’t blame them. They are poor and have many daughters.”
“But Kai knew you were a Dragonkeeper.” She turned to the dragon. “Didn’t you?”
He shook his head. “Boy play games better than Ping,” he said. “And have sweeties.”
“Sweeties?”
Jun pulled something out of his sleeve. He opened out his hand. Three red berries lay in his palm.
“It’s a trick passed down from my great-grandfather,” Jun said, his head hanging lower. “Dragons can’t resist these berries. They will always come to you if you have some up your sleeve. I’m sorry, Ping.”
“When Jun and I discussed what we could do, we realised that Kai understood us and could help. Hua too.”
Ping leaned close to Dong Fang Suo to hear him.
“We told Kai to tell you what the plan was.”
“I misunderstood,” Ping said. “I thought everyone had turned against me, even Kai.”
She stroked the little dragon. “I was wrong. You were very brave. It was your idea to cut the scars with your talons.”
“Father said use talons,” Kai replied. “In dream.”
It had never occurred to Ping that Danzi visited Kai in dreams as well.
“I was ready to go with you, Ping, wherever your path lay, but that isn’t possible now.” Dong Fang Suo’s voice was faint, his breathing difficult. “I should have tried to stop the necromancer at Twisting Snake Ravine. I followed the Emperor’s orders blindly.”
“You gave help when it was most needed,” Ping said. “You gave your life. I’ll never forget your part in the power of five.”
Dong Fang Suo’s shallow breathing stopped.
“Bye bye, Fatso,” said Kai.
Ping closed the old man’s blank eyes. He’d died with a smile on his face. She wished she knew a prayer to help guide his soul to Heaven.
Jun held out the Dragonkeeper’s seal to Ping.
“I don’t want it,” she said. “I’m not the Imperial Dragonkeeper. There is no imperial dragon. I’m keeper of a dragon born in the wild, who will live in freedom not in captivity. You keep the seal—as a souvenir. It’s the mirror I want.”
Jun handed her the mirror.
“I’ll take Dong Fang Suo’s body back and tell the Emperor that you have defeated the necromancer. Perhaps he’ll realise that hi
s plans to gain immortality will bring nothing but misery.”
“Tell him that Heaven decides the time to live and die,” Ping said.
Jun nodded. “I’ll stay hidden as long as possible, to allow you time to escape.”
He lifted the Imperial Magician’s body. Jun was small and skinny, but Ping realised he had strength within that she hadn’t given him credit for. He adjusted his grip on the old man, and then walked off into the bamboo.
“Bye bye, Boy,” said Kai.
The sky was growing light, though heavy clouds kept the sun hidden. Ping felt tired and weak. She had forgotten about her injuries while she was battling with the necromancer, but now she realised that she hurt all over.
She heard squeaking. The rats who had chewed through her bonds had gathered together. Ping didn’t understand why they didn’t just run back to their home. Then she realised they were waiting—waiting for Hua.
She picked up Hua and buried her face in his soft warm fur. She wanted to tell him not to go, to beg him to stay and help her on the next part of her journey. But she didn’t.
“Danzi sent you back to help me,” she said. “You’ve saved me many times, Hua. You’ve done your job.”
She gently put Hua down on the ground.
“I don’t know how I’ll manage without you, but you should live a proper rat life,” she said. “Go with them.”
Hua ran over and joined the other rats. He looked back at Ping.
“Goodbye, old friend,” she said.
The rats scurried off and Hua followed.
Sadness threatened to overpower her, but she didn’t have time to begin grieving for everyone she had lost. Not yet. She had to decide what to do next.
Ping tried to remember all the times she’d dreamt of Danzi. Was there anything in his messages that would help her decide where she should go?
“Kai, in your dreams, did Danzi tell you anything else?”
“Eat worms,” the dragon said.
“Worms?”
“Good for eyesight.”
“Anything else?”
“Not too many. Too many worms make Kai fart.”
The little dragon made tinkling flute sounds. The sound made Ping’s heart soar. It was good to hear the sounds of a happy dragon again.
“Also said five.”
“Five what? Power of five?”
“No. Five upside-down.”
Kai’s dreams of the old dragon were as unfathomable as hers. Kai raised his head so that Ping could scratch him under the chin.
“But you don’t like being tickled under the chin.”
“Do now.”
She scratched the little dragon, but her fingers caught in his scales. Beneath his chin he had five reverse scales, just as his father had.
“Five upside-down scales. Is that what he said?”
Kai nodded. Ping looked closer. His reverse scales were much smaller than Danzi’s.
“Is there anything behind your reverse scales?”
“Maybe.”
The reverse scales were so small that Ping wouldn’t have been able to fit a finger behind them, but she could see that they were all bulging a little.
“Show me what’s behind your scales, Kai.”
“Not showing.” The little dragon looked guilty.
“Please, Kai. I won’t get cross, I promise.”
The little dragon inserted two talons behind the first of his reverse scales. He pulled out a dead caterpillar and a half-eaten jujube.
“Snacks,” said Kai.
From behind the second scale Kai produced the jade pendant that Wang Cao had given Ping.
“I thought I’d lost that!” Ping exclaimed.
Behind the third was a gold earring in the shape of a lotus flower.
“Pretty,” said Kai.
“Did you steal that from the Princess? You’re a bad dragon.”
From behind the fourth scale he produced a dragon talon.
“Father’s,” the little dragon said. “For dreams.”
Ping wasn’t sure what he meant.
“What’s behind the last scale, Kai?” Ping asked.
He pulled out a folded piece of undyed silk cloth.
“What’s that?” Ping asked.
“Don’t know.”
“Did you put it there?”
Kai shook his head.
“Who did then?”
“Rat.”
“Hua?”
The little dragon nodded. “Red bird carried it across Ocean from Father.”
With trembling fingers, Ping took the piece of silk from the little dragon’s talons. It was a message from Danzi. Not a dream riddle, but something she could hold in her hand. She unfolded it. In the growing light, she examined it closely. It was blank. She turned it over. The silk square didn’t have a single mark on it.
• chapter twenty-eight •
A SILK SQUARE
“In the second year of Emperor Wu a new
Dragonkeeper will appear. She will be shunned but
she is the true Dragonkeeper.”
Ping’s happiness plummeted like a ripe peach falling from a tree. Just a short while earlier she’d had the power of five. She and her friends had defeated the necromancer using the five elements. She had deciphered Kai’s dream. She had found a message from Danzi. Her heart had soared. Things were finally going right. But her band of companions had disintegrated, and the message from the old dragon had proved to be meaningless. The peach of her happiness splattered and turned to pulp.
Ping didn’t need a magician, a homesick boy or a dragon to tell her. She knew what she had to do. She had to take Kai to a place where no one would ever find him.
The Emperor would send out guards to scour the Empire for the little dragon. Once word spread, greedy people would be willing to hand Kai over for a reward, or else sell him for his value in gold. No matter where she went, if there were people near, Kai would never be safe. The neglect of incompetent Dragonkeepers and selfish Emperors had combined to reduce the number of dragons to one. People had lost their chance to have dragons live among them.
She and Kai would have to creep through the Empire hiding in forests, travelling at night until they found a deserted place where no one would disturb them. Ping suddenly pictured the desolate hills around Huangling Palace. That was a place where no one chose to live. And the Emperor would never think to look for her there. She and Kai could survive on lizards and birds. She could build a shelter of branches and bundles of grass. The winters would be cold and bleak; they would have to hibernate like animals. It would be a miserable life, but it was the only plan she could think of.
She remembered what Danzi had said in her dream. Those who do not leave their beds are not always safe. She had tried to seek safety—on Tai Shan, at Ming Yang Lodge, with her family—but Heaven had always guided her back to her true path. She vowed she would never stray from it again—if she could just work out which way it lay.
She wanted to get Kai as far away from the Emperor as possible. For the moment she would risk travelling by day and hope that the Emperor and his guards were too busy with Princess Yangxin’s departure to notice her.
“You’ll have to shape-change during the day, Kai,” she said. “What shape do you want to take?”
The little dragon turned into a bucket, then a pot plant and finally settled on a basket.
Ping was weak, but so was Kai. She picked him up. Ping’s chest hurt with every breath. Her left arm hung limp. The wound on the side of her head was bleeding again. She was weak and exhausted. She didn’t know if she could carry her own weight, let alone the dragon’s.
Heavy clouds hung low over the countryside. It was still early, but there was a great deal of activity on the north road near the river. Word had spread about the arrival of the Duke of Yan’s camel caravan, and people were arriving from nearby villages to see the creatures. Stalls had sprung up on the dock to sell food and drinks to the spectators. Ping watched from the cover of the bam
boo grove as imperial guards kept back the crowd while bearers finished loading the Princess’s baggage, piling each camel with chests, baskets and bags. There were also two sedan chairs that would carry Princess Yangxin and her ladies, draped with hangings to conceal the occupants.
No one was looking for her yet. As Ping stepped out onto the road, Lady An emerged from one of the tents. Their eyes met, but Lady An looked away and went on with her business.
Ping had no money, no food, not even a water bag. She had lost all her belongings apart from the dragon scale and her mirror. Kai didn’t ask where they were going.
Ping asked a farmer with a covered wagon if he would take her to the next town. He looked suspiciously at the grubby girl with a ripped gown and blood on what remained of her sleeve. He shook his head.
Ping walked slowly. She wished she felt stronger. At any moment Kai could grow tired of being a basket and turn into his proper shape. As soon as the Emperor found out that she had escaped with Kai, a reward would be posted for her capture. Soon everyone would be on the lookout for her.
Every step took them further away from the Emperor. Ping had never imagined that she would be so pleased to leave Liu Che behind her, happy that she would never have to see him again.
The silk square was scrunched up in her hand. She was angry with Danzi for raising her hopes. For a moment she’d thought she would learn something new and valuable from it. She threw the silk square onto the road.
“Keep silk!” cried a voice in Ping’s head.
“What for?” said Ping. “It’s useless.”
A merchant pulling a hand cart passed them. One of the cart’s wheels rolled over the silk square. The cart rumbled on with the silk stuck to the wheel.
Kai suddenly turned into a goat. Ping dropped him. She looked around. Fortunately no one had seen the transformation.
“Must get silk,” Kai said.
He started to run after it.
“No!” Ping grabbed him around his goat neck. He struggled to get away from her.
“You must stay with me, Kai,” Ping said. “Promise me you won’t run off.”