He walked up the road to the compound, exhausted after a long day searching and a longer sleepless night. The gate was open a crack. His heart, already beating fast from the climb, beat faster. He made his tired legs run. Relief flooded through him. He wasn’t even cross with Kai for forgetting to bar the gate.
He barely had the strength left to push the gate open wide enough for him to slip through. The compound was as quiet and empty as when he’d left.
“Kai.” He didn’t speak aloud. “Where are you?”
There were no answering words in his mind.
Then he heard a sound. It was the cheeping hiss of the naga, interspersed with happy flute notes. Tao’s heart leaped. Kai had found Sunila! Tao discovered that he did have a wisp of energy left, enough for him to run into the courtyard.
He was about to call out to Kai again, but the words shrivelled in his mouth. Sunila was there. He was curled at the feet of someone lounging on Wei’s couch. A hand was draped on the naga’s head, tickling his ears. Sunila was purring. The shreds of hope fell from Tao like autumn leaves from a tree. The smirking face before him belonged to Fo Tu Deng.
Chapter Sixteen
TEA FOR TWO
“Tao, come and sit down,” Fo Tu Deng said, as if he was welcoming an old friend into his own house. “I’ve made a pot of your excellent tea. I’ve been expecting you. Let me pour a cup for you.”
Fo Tu Deng poured tea from a stout little teapot with a crabapple design etched on the lid. Tao’s mother had taken the best bronze teapot with her to Jiankang. This little one, made from red clay, was the teapot she’d used whenever local elders called by. She had never wanted anyone to think that the Huans were wealthy.
Sunila was stretched out, purring at the feet of the monk who was chatting to him in fluent Sanskrit. The naga took no notice of Tao at all.
“This is my house. I want you to leave.”
Fo Tu Deng smiled as he handed Tao a cup of tea.
“In these lawless times, I think anyone can take possession of abandoned property. This compound has such commanding views in all directions, and it’s so comfortable. It will make an excellent base for my activities. I have settled myself into the charming room with the lacquered screen, the large bed and the cabinet painted with mountain scenes.”
That was Tao’s mother’s room. She hadn’t been able to take all her furniture with her.
The monk sipped his tea and patted the naga.
“One of my scouts told me he saw a young man wandering around near here with two dragons. It had to be you. Then this poor creature came to me distressed and malnourished.”
He said something in Sanskrit to the naga, who purred in response.
“I know something about the dragons of Tianzhu. Nagas live in rainforests. Their main source of food is tree frogs, which the adult females collect. The males are rather lazy when it comes to food gathering. Their job is to keep away predators – tigers mainly, and humans of course.” The monk smiled. “This fellow isn’t much good at finding his own food. When my men encountered a shape-changing monster that killed with a venomous bite, I guessed it was a naga. I sent three of them to the mountains to find some decent-sized tree frogs so that I could test my theory, see if he would be lured by them.” Fo Tu Deng chuckled. “Out on the plains, nomads don’t have much experience of climbing trees. There was an unfortunate accident, but that encouraged the others to learn how to climb trees more skilfully.”
Tao watched as the monk pulled a squirming green frog from a basket. It was as big as his hand. The naga snatched it from him and bit off its head. He crunched the frog’s head and then ate the rest of the poor creature. It was a much more filling meal than the woodworm larvae Tao had provided.
“There are mango groves in the naga forest,” Fo Tu Deng continued, “and the mangos are ripe for many months of the year. They are another important part of a naga’s diet.”
That explained why Sunila had such a sweet tooth.
“You did quite well, Tao, finding the larvae for this creature. That is what they eat in their home forest whenever the frogs are in short supply. The fallen trees become soft and pulpy and the larvae of certain beetles thrive in them.” The monk drained his cup. “I’m sure this little lesson in the ways of the dragons of Tianzhu has been of great interest to you.”
Fo Tu Deng poured himself more tea. Tao’s was left untouched.
“He’ll be very useful.” The monk patted Sunila on the head. “I can train him to shape-change into a monster and bite on command; he could become a vital weapon to attack the enemy. And I can use him to threaten my men if they don’t do as I tell them. And one day, when I finally get to build my own monastery, people will travel for hundreds of li to see the dragon from the land of the Buddha.”
The monk sounded wistful, as if he wasn’t entirely sure that day would ever come.
“Buddha has blessed me. First I found this creature and now you,” the monk said. “You remember Jilong, I suspect?”
Tao nodded. How could he forget the cruel Zhao warlord who had subjected Pema to torture?
“Jilong is a demanding fellow. He wants me to look into the future and tell him how he can defeat his enemies. I do my best with the tools I have at hand, but I could do so much better with your skills.”
“I’m not going to help you.”
“That was not meant to be a request.”
“You can’t make me.”
“I think I can.” Fo Tu Deng put down his teacup. “Come with me.”
He led Tao to the goat pen as if he owned the place. He opened the gate. Kai was there, slumped on the ground, shackled with iron chains, purple blood crusting around an ugly wound on his head.
Fear stabbed at Tao’s heart. He couldn’t hear the dragon in his mind. “Is he dead?”
“No, no,” chuckled Fo Tu Deng. “If he was already dead, how could I use him as an incentive for you to … cooperate?”
Tao heard the awful scraping sound of a dragon in pain. Kai was stirring. Weeping iron sores were already forming where the chains made contact with his hide. But at least he was alive.
“Now then,” Fo Tu Deng said pleasantly, as if they were bartering in a market. “Perhaps we can come to some arrangement.”
Sunila grovelled at the monk’s feet until he gave the naga another frog.
Tao sat with his head in his hands as Fo Tu Deng explained what he wanted.
“I have searched for weeks, but haven’t been able to discover where Jilong’s enemies are hiding. I thought they might be here in this compound, but I can find no sign of them.”
The monk was trying to sound relaxed and in control of the situation, but it was obvious he was in a precarious position with the Zhao warlord.
“They pick off my men, so I know they must be nearby. They’ve disappeared like mist,” the monk said. “At first we assumed they were the Zhao’s old enemy the New Han, but every time they kill a Zhao soldier, they leave a token – a wooden disc with a black camel painted on it. I’ve tried torturing the citizens of Luoyang, but they don’t seem to know who these people are. The men call them the Black Camel Bandits. That’s why I need you. I must know what they are up to and how they can be defeated.”
“But I can’t help you,” Tao said. “I’ve told you before …”
Fo Tu Deng held up his hand.
“You told me that you cannot summon a vision to help me. And yet, as I recall, somehow you managed it.”
“I won’t help you!”
Fo Tu Deng looked at Kai and smiled.
“Yes, you will. If you would like your dragon to be free of the hurtful iron chains, I suggest you start your summoning.”
Fo Tu Deng’s nomads arrived, weary and dispirited after another unsuccessful search for their enemies. There were about twenty of them, and they filled the courtyard and spread themselves around the house. They made a lot of noise, and built a large fire on the garden beds that Tao had dug over and reseeded. The nomads were unconcerned that
the smoke could be seen for many li. They raided the food cellar, and wrung the necks of the few chickens Tao had been able to coax back to the chicken coop. They took enough food to last Tao and Kai for several weeks. And the nomads didn’t even like it.
“Why are we eating grass seeds?” one of them complained as he stirred a pot of grain. “We can’t fight if we eat nothing but food meant for horses and goats.”
Another nomad prodded the chickens that were roasting in the fire. “And birds. All bones and pale flesh.”
“We need something that bleeds,” the other one said. “A goat or a deer.”
“And kumiss. How are we supposed to fight with no kumiss in our bellies?”
They both sighed. Tao shuddered at the thought of the foul-tasting drink that nomads made from fermented mare’s milk.
One of the nomads brought a bowl of food for Fo Tu Deng. The monk invited Tao to eat with him, but even if he ate meat, he couldn’t have eaten the flesh of the chickens that had given him eggs. At least the nomads hadn’t eaten the turnips and cabbages growing in the garden. They would sooner eat stones than vegetables. Fo Tu Deng shovelled down the food. For a small, skinny man he had a big appetite.
While the monk was eating, Tao went to Wei’s room. His dream of the compound being a sanctuary where he and his friends could live in peace was shattered. But that wasn’t his main concern. He could hear the faint sound of scraping blades coming from the goat pen. Kai was in pain.
When he’d discovered the solution to the iron problem, Tao had been so pleased with himself. He’d imagined that he’d always be at Kai’s side ready to give him the cinnabar, if ever they were confronted with sword-wielding nomads. And then he had told Kai to go off alone and look for the naga, without a thought about possible danger. Fo Tu Deng’s faith in Tao’s ability as a seer was misplaced. He hadn’t been able to foresee that he and Kai would be separated, and that Kai would need to carry cinnabar with him.
He took the lump of cinnabar from his bag, broke off two crystals and hid them in his sleeve. He went back outside.
Sunila was pawing the monk’s gown.
“What do you want?” He kicked the naga. “Go away!”
“He’s still hungry,” Tao said.
“It’s eaten all the frogs, the greedy beast!”
Tao remembered how much food Fo Tu Deng had just eaten. “He nearly starved. You can’t blame him for wanting to eat as much as he can.”
Fo Tu Deng called over two guards. “Chain this creature up with the other dragon.”
All the nomads were watching as the guards brought a length of chain and warily approached the naga.
“It’s a pity they weren’t all wiped out in the fire,” the monk muttered.
“What fire?” Tao asked.
“Back in Tianzhu. There was a forest where the nagas lived. The place was crawling with the beasts. I was spiritual advisor to the king of that region. He decided that his grand palace had to be on the very spot where the naga forest was. So he burned it.”
Tao was horrified. “The whole forest?”
“Yes. It was quite a job. It’s not easy to burn a rainforest.”
“But what happened to the nagas?”
“Most of them died in the fire. This is the first I have seen in years.”
“Years?”
“Yes, the fire was seven or more years ago. I don’t know how he has survived.”
One of the guards tried to put the chain around Sunila’s neck. The naga bared his fangs and lunged at the man. The nomads who were watching took several steps backwards. They hadn’t forgotten that the beast had killed their comrade.
Fo Tu Deng had run out of patience. “Kill it,” he yelled, pointing at Sunila.
Sunila disappeared, startling the monk.
“You can’t kill him!” Tao said. “He’s one of the few of his kind left. And you said yourself he might be useful.”
“I haven’t got time to run around after dragons.”
The monk leaned closer to Tao. “About this vision …”
Tao knew he had no choice. He would have to help the monk. “I will seek a vision,” he said. “But first you must release Kai.”
“I will do that when you have told me what I want to know.”
“No. To seek a vision, I need to be calm.” Tao might be Fo Tu Deng’s captive, but the monk needed him. “You must assure me that neither dragon will be harmed.”
“You have summoned a vision before while in fear for your life.”
“But Kai was not in pain then. He was weakened by the presence of iron weapons, but he was not shackled with iron chains as he is now. You don’t understand the power that I have. I wasn’t born with it. It only appeared when I met the dragon. It comes from my connection with Kai. If anything happens to him, my visions will disappear.” This at least was not a lie. Tao was sure that was true. “And I cannot summon a vision if I can hear Kai in pain.”
The dragon made a loud scraping metal sound to emphasise Tao’s point.
Tao could see that Fo Tu Deng was wavering. Jilong might be hundreds of li away, but the monk was surrounded by a band of men loyal to the warlord. Fo Tu Deng wasn’t free. The nomads would report back whatever he did, and Jilong was a ruthless man. If the monk failed to give the warlord the information he needed, he would kill Fo Tu Deng without hesitation.
“I will get the naga to show himself, and you can keep both dragons confined,” Tao said, “but not chained.”
Fo Tu Deng waved his hand impatiently. “All right.”
Tao went over to the goat pen.
One of the guards brought the key to unlock the chains, but wouldn’t do it himself. Tao undid the chains and threw them aside.
He spoke to Kai with his mind. “How did they manage to catch you?”
“I was incautious,” Kai replied. “The nomads captured Sunila, and I was hiding in the forest, waiting for an opportunity to free him. Although I was trying to aid him, he squawked like a chicken being attacked by a fox. A nomad crept up behind me and hit me on the head.”
Tao inspected the dragon’s head. “The blow has reopened the wound made by that large hailstone.”
He had one of the crystals of cinnabar in his hand. He spoke aloud this time, so that Fo Tu Deng could hear him.
“Let me see your tongue.”
The dragon poked out his tongue and Tao peered at it.
Tao had positioned himself so that Fo Tu Deng couldn’t see what he was doing.
“The colour is slightly improved,” he said, as he slipped the crystal under Kai’s tongue.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tao saw some pieces of straw fall from the compound wall. He guessed that Sunila was up in his nest, still invisible.
“Now I will get the naga to reappear,” Tao said.
He went to the kitchen, took the last remaining piece of honeycomb, and slipped the other cinnabar crystal into it. As he walked out into the courtyard Sunila reappeared at his side. Fo Tu Deng and his guards all jumped backwards a step. Tao went up to the naga who nuzzled his hand to find the honey treat. Tao stood with the naga at his feet, contentedly chewing the honeycomb, and allowed himself a small moment of triumph.
Chapter Seventeen
VISION OF DARKNESS
Sunila flapped back up to his nest on the wall and Tao turned to the monk.
“Now, tell me what it is you want to know.”
Fo Tu Deng’s eyes lit up as if Tao had already provided the answer to his problems.
“It is simple. I need to know where the Black Camel Bandits are hiding.” He lowered his voice so his men couldn’t hear. “They never make a proper attack, just lots of sneaky little raids. They kill my men, and demoralise those who remain. At this rate I’ll have no men left. At first I thought they might be Di people or perhaps the Xianbei, but neither of those tribes use a camel as an emblem. They must be a new tribe, perhaps from the desert where they ride camels.”
The monk needed some firm information to report
to Jilong, something to prove that he was worth keeping alive.
“Would you like me to try for a vision now?” Tao asked.
“No, no,” Fo Tu Deng replied in a low voice. “Wait until my men have settled down for the night.”
The Zhao soldiers drifted off to their quarters. Some of them had taken over rooms in the compound, others had put up tents near the horses tethered down by the gate.
Tao sat in the peony pavilion and invented a small ritual, as if seeking visions was something that he often did and a strict ceremony was required to achieve success. He washed his hands, sat cross-legged and took some deep breaths. He recited a sutra. Tao smiled to himself. Creating a performance in order to trick an audience was something he’d learned from Fo Tu Deng. He opened the vial and allowed the yellow oil to drip onto his palms, then rubbed them together until they were covered with a film of oil. He held up his hands as if accepting something from heaven. Fo Tu Deng stood back respectfully. Then Tao brought his hands down in front of him, cupping them together.
“Help me great dragon spirit.” Tao was almost enjoying himself. “Hear your servant’s request for knowledge.”
He heard the jingling-bell sound of dragon laughter coming from the goat pen. He was glad that Kai had recovered quickly.
“What is the secret of the Black Camel Bandits?” Tao continued. “Where do they hide to evade the Zhao so successfully?”
He stared at his palms until his eyes became unfocused. The request had no connection with Kai, so Tao wasn’t expecting a vision to come. It was no surprise, therefore, when all he could see on his palms was black. He took some deep breaths, and tried to invent a vision. He was about to give up, when a thought struck him. The other times he’d failed to conjure up a vision, he’d always found himself staring at the lines on his hands, not at blackness. It was a vision – a vision of darkness. After a while, his eyes adjusted and he could make out faint man shapes. They were almost as black as the darkness but not quite. The only features visible were their eyes. As they blinked, they almost disappeared. Tao’s visions always contained other information, but no matter how close he peered, he could see no other clues. The blinking eyes reminded him of something, but he couldn’t remember what. There was a faint smell of incense and the sound of bells, but he thought he must be imagining that.