“We are at the mercy of a man who thought nothing of slaughtering almost the entire population of Luoyang – men, women and small children.” There was a note of panic in Fo Tu Deng’s voice as he rattled the bars and kicked the wooden stall, looking for a way of escape. “He butchered thousands of innocent people without a second thought. He will kill us as other people would squash a mosquito.”
Tao was thinking that he wouldn’t squash a mosquito, when Kai’s monk shape began to waver.
“What’s wrong, Kai?”
“It is the iron bars. Iron weakens dragons,” the dragon said. “I must rest from shape-changing.”
Despite their predicament, Tao enjoyed watching Fo Tu Deng’s expression as it changed from astonishment, to nausea and then to fear.
“Is this …?”
“This is Kai,” Tao explained. “No magic, no sleight of hand. This is his true shape.”
“And can you understand those unpleasant noises he makes?”
“Yes, I can,” Tao said with more than a hint of pride.
The sound of a squealing pig came from outside.
Tao hadn’t really expected to sleep, but when nomad soldiers shook him awake the next morning, the sun was well up in the sky. There was a strong smell of burning pork. Kai had managed to shape-change in time, but his image wavered slightly. Fortunately, no one was looking too closely at him.
“The Chanyu is awake. He would like to kill you before he has breakfast,” one of them said.
Shi Le spat on the ground. “Those two kitchen monks burned my meat,” he said, indicating the two White Horse Temple monks who were cowering in a corner, their robes stained with pig’s blood. “My servant spilled my kumiss. I can at least enjoy watching all you monks die.”
They were forced to their knees at sword point. Tao glanced at Kai. Three men had the points of their iron swords aimed at the dragon’s heart. There would be no heroic action from him.
“But, Chanyu, Buddha can help you in your conquest of this land,” Fo Tu Deng pleaded. “You have done exceedingly well with your own talents. Let me show you the power of the Buddha. With his help you can become greater than the greatest of the Han emperors.”
Shi Le’s wandering eyes circled back and settled on Fo Tu Deng. He was interested in being great. The monk reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out the golden Buddha statue.
“Behold the Buddha!” he chanted.
Now that he was close to the statue, Tao could see that the gold had worn off in places, revealing bronze beneath a thin layer of gilding.
“The Buddha can create miracles. Allow me to demonstrate,” Fo Tu Deng said. “These monks will help me. And the novice. If he tries to escape, you are welcome to kill him.”
Shi Le looked at Tao as if that was something he’d quite enjoy.
“You have seen me perform my magic, boy,” Fo Tu Deng whispered. “Just do as I say. Fetch me a bowl and water.”
Tao ran to the kitchen. Cooking pots were smashed on the floor, but he managed to find a bowl that was whole. It was a simple clay vessel, not as elegant as the silver one that Fo Tu Deng had used in Luoyang. He filled a jar with water from a pond outside the kitchen door and hurried back to the courtyard where Fo Tu Deng had found some small bells and got the two White Horse Temple monks to ring them. Kai tried to sneak away in the twilight, but Fo Tu Deng made him sit with the monks and gave him a bell as well. The monks were nervous. They started reciting the evening bell chant, even though it was morning. They got the words wrong.
“At the sound of the bell,
Enlightenment disappears.
Wisdom ceases.”
Their bells didn’t ring in unison. Kai’s bell was bigger and clanged rather than chimed – especially when he dropped it. The bright morning sunlight did not create a mysterious atmosphere as the glow of the setting sun had.
Tao held up the bowl as best he could, though it was heavy even when it was empty. Fo Tu Deng muttered some meaningless words that were supposed to turn the pond water into holy water.
“Hold it up higher, boy,” Fo Tu Deng hissed.
Tao lifted the bowl above his head. His arms started to ache almost immediately. Fo Tu Deng was desperately trying to create a mystic mood with his words. Tao’s arms started to shake. One of the monks poured the water into the bowl above Tao’s head, making it even heavier. Tao couldn’t see what Fo Tu Deng was doing, but he heard the nomads gasp, so he guessed he had made a blue lotus appear. Tao couldn’t hold the bowl up any longer, his arms collapsed and the bowl crashed to the ground, breaking into pieces. The holy water seeped into the earth, as any water would have done. The blue lotus lay on the ground and looked like what it was – a soggy paper flower. Tao glanced at Kai. He couldn’t believe he had ever been taken in by the monk’s trickery.
Shi Le laughed, though his mouth remained hard and unsmiling.
“That was very entertaining, monk. I needed some amusement. Do you have any other tricks?”
Fo Tu Deng grovelled in front of Shi Le, muttering sutras into the Chanyu’s boots, but he had no other magic to perform. Shi Le looked at Tao and then at Kai.
“I am bored with the entertainment here,” he said. “It will be much more amusing to watch them all die.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth before two nomads had grabbed Tao and Fo Tu Deng and had raised swords above their heads.
“Wait, Chanyu,” Fo Tu Deng said, his voice trembling with fear.
“Yes?” Shi Le said. “What else can you do for me? Help me defeat my enemies?”
“I can do that, Chanyu,” Fo Tu Deng stammered, “if you will allow me to beseech the Buddha for his blessing.”
“I am losing patience,” Shi Le said.
“You are a great leader, but with the blessing of Buddha you can be the greatest leader. Your name will be remembered for five hundred generations. Allow my brothers and myself to meditate.”
Shi Le sighed. “I am tired of your empty words, monk. But I am hungry. You have until after I have eaten.” He pointed to the two White Horse Temple monks. “You two. Carve the pig.”
Someone gave one of the startled monks a knife.
“If you can prove your claims,” Shi Le said to Fo Tu Deng, “your life will be spared. If you have lied, I will make sure your death is slow and painful.”
While the two White Horse Temple monks gingerly cut the burned skin off the piglet, Tao, Kai and Fo Tu Deng were marched back to the stables. Fo Tu Deng didn’t start meditating as he had said he would, instead he turned on Tao.
“There must be something you can do to save us! Dragons have great strength,” the monk said, examining Kai from a safe distance. “And natural weapons. If you got the beast to attack the nomads, we could make our escape.”
“Violence is not something Buddhists can contemplate using, Your Holiness,” Tao reminded him.
“We could make an exception for nomads,” the monk said.
Kai growled as if he was willing to make an exception for Fo Tu Deng.
“And anyway, the dragon isn’t a Buddhist … is he?”
“No, but though Kai might seem like some sort of wild creature to you, he isn’t. A human raised him. He will not kill people unless his own life is threatened.” Tao looked at Kai, wondering if that was true. “We must meditate. If it is Buddha’s will that we die here tonight, we must be calm and ready to pass into the next life.”
Tao could see that the iron was weakening Kai. Even if he had been willing to kill the nomads, he didn’t have the strength.
“You might be ready to die. I am not,” Kai said to Tao. “Do not waste time on meditation. Use your second sight.”
“I have no confidence in my second sight, but I’m willing to try it again.”
Tao took the vial of oil from his bag, let a few drops fall onto his hands and rubbed them together until the yellow oil was smeared over his palms.
“What are you doing, boy?” Fo Tu Deng said. “This is not the time to worr
y about the condition of your hands!”
“Since I met the dragon, I have developed the ability to receive visions,” Tao said.
“You are imagining it,” the monk said.
“Kai calls it second sight. I am going to try and create a vision, in the hope that it will tell me what to do.”
Tao put his hands together so that they made a shallow bowl and stared at them. He could see nothing but the lines and marks on his palms.
“It’s no good. It isn’t working.”
“How many visions have you had?” Fo Tu Deng asked.
“Just one. And I didn’t understand what it meant.”
Tao let his hand fall into his lap.
“Maybe my visions are no more real than his Buddha magic,” Tao whispered to Kai. “Perhaps that first vision was just imagination.”
“Your skill is real but undeveloped. Initiation into the role of dragonkeeper should be slow and steady. Not unlike training to be a monk. You healed my wounds before you could even communicate with me.”
“Anyone would have done that,” said Tao, thinking that he had been less than enthusiastic when Kai had told him he was a dragonkeeper. Had he committed himself to the dragon, would his second sight be stronger, his visions easier to interpret?
“You had the knowledge,” Kai continued. “Red cloud herb is the only thing that will heal iron sores.”
Tao turned to the dragon. “Iron sores? But you said it was a tiger that wounded you.”
Kai didn’t reply. Tao was about to question the dragon further, when two nomads came into the stables to get them.
Kai and Fo Tu Deng hurried out – Kai to prevent the nomad from touching him, the monk to beg for his life. Tao followed more slowly. He was about to wipe his hands on his robes, but the other nomad grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him to his feet, dragging him along by the collar of his robe.
“Get a move on.”
Tao caught up with Kai. “Who wounded you then?” he whispered as they were marched across the courtyard.
“Another dragon.”
Chapter Seventeen
DISTANT VISION
Shi Le’s supply of patience was short and it had run out some time ago. He stood in front of his tent with his arms folded.
To prepare to die, Tao began to recite a sutra. It was the one he had recited to Wei just before he left. Tears filled his eyes as he realised he would never see his brother again.
Tao’s hands moved together of their own volition and formed a shallow bowl. There was still a smear of yellow oil on them. Through his tears, Tao could see an image form, blurred at first but then sharpening.
“I see something,” Tao whispered.
“Wait!” Fo Tu Deng shouted. “I have received a vision from Buddha.”
“It’s too late, monk,” Shi Le said. “You had your chance to impress me.”
Tao was still staring at his hands. The image was not as clear as the last one.
“I said that Buddha would help you, Chanyu,” Fo Tu Deng said. “And he has.”
For once, Shi Le’s eyes were not roaming. They were fixed on Fo Tu Deng. “What do you see, monk?”
Fo Tu Deng’s eyes darted to Tao and back to Shi Le. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Tao didn’t want to look away from his palms in case the image disappeared. He could see the side of someone’s head. He felt panic rising in his throat. What sort of a vision was this? It told him nothing. He wished he could step back from the vision and get a wider view, but all he could see was an ear, a tangle of untidy hair and a beard.
“Come on then, monk,” Shi Le said. “Tell me what you see in your vision.”
Fo Tu Deng glanced at Tao. For once he was speechless.
“The holy vision from Buddha is so powerful that my reverend brother is overcome,” Tao said, wondering if the ability to lie was another skill he had inherited with his second sight. “Sometimes it is hours before he can speak.”
“I am not waiting hours,” Shi Le said. He turned away. He’d already lost interest.
Fo Tu Deng suddenly started groaning. He wobbled on his knees and pitched forwards. As he fell, he mouthed words to Tao. “Tell him what you see.”
Tao was impressed by the monk’s acting skills, but his vision hadn’t revealed anything that would impress the Zhao leader.
“He is old,” Tao said. “The visions drain his strength. Normally he would rest before he transmits Buddha’s holy words, but he is going to channel his vision into my mind and I will do my best to describe it to you.”
The old monk sat up again and crossed his twiggy legs as if he were about to meditate. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and rested his fingers on his temples. Tao stared at his hands again. The image was fading.
“He sees a nomad.” Tao was confident of that because of the wild hair and the beard.
Shi Le looked unimpressed. “That tells me nothing,” he said, lifting a cup of kumiss to his mouth.
Tao could just make out white horsehairs on the man’s shoulder.
“The man is seated on a white horse, General,” Tao said.
The cup faltered as it reached the nomad’s fleshy lips and milk dribbled down his chin. He leaned closer. “Yes?”
“He has an ornament hanging from his ear in the shape of an eagle.”
Shi Le dropped his cup and grabbed Tao by the shoulders.
“Where is he?”
Tao thought he saw a piece of rock face behind the man in the vision. “He is on a mountain.”
“Which mountain?”
As the vision faded away, Tao glimpsed a small yellow flower growing in a crevice of the rock. Tao had seen this flower growing on the mountain above Yinmi Monastery.
“He is in the Chenlo Pass on Song Shan.”
“I know that pass!” Shi Le exclaimed. “Does he have an army with him? Do you know if his vision is in the present or the future?”
The vision was gone. Tao would have to make up the rest.
“Yes, he has an army and they are coming through the pass towards Luoyang, General. And I believe it is happening at this moment. I have told you truly what I have seen … that is the images Fo Tu Deng has transmitted to me.”
“How far along the pass are they?”
“My reverend brother sees them just entering it.” Tao didn’t see that at all.
Shi Le sent for his horse and ordered his second-in-command to order a unit of horsemen to prepare to ride immediately.
“The pass is narrow,” he said. “They will have to lead their horses. It will take some hours. We might have time to ride there and ambush them as they emerge.”
The nomad leader swallowed a few mouthfuls of kumiss while his men strapped on his armour. Then three men helped him get onto his horse. On horseback, he looked like a ruthless general again, capable of anything.
Men came running. Horses were saddled. In less than an hour, fifty armed horsemen were ready and eager for battle.
Shi Le glared down at Fo Tu Deng. “If this information is false,” he said, “if you are lying to save your life …”
He shouted out an order to his men in their own language and they galloped away.
Tao could feel his face burn. He had seen a vision, but the meaning he had ascribed to it, he had completely invented.
Chapter Eighteen
MEDITATION
They were back behind the iron bars. Kai sank down into the straw.
“We should be spending the time in meditation and reciting sutras, ” Tao said.
“Why?” Kai asked. “Do you not trust your second sight?”
“No, I don’t.”
He was going to confess to Kai that he had concocted the meaning of the vision, but the dragon looked so weak he didn’t have the heart to tell him.
“I have confidence in your vision, even if you do not. If it proves false, then we will consider escape.”
Tao wished Kai didn’t have such faith in him.
The day passed
slowly. They sat in silence. Finally, they heard the sounds of horses entering the courtyard. Tao peered through the bars.
“Do they look pleased?” Fo Tu Deng asked.
All Tao could see were panting horses. There was no jubilation, no backslapping, but no anger either. They were like weary men returning from a day’s work in the fields.
“I can’t tell.”
The stable door opened and one of the guards came in. “Move. The Chanyu wants to see the prisoners.”
The captives were marched out. Shi Le was seated on a stool. There was a strong smell of sweat, both horse and human. The guard pushed Fo Tu Deng and Tao to their knees. Kai kneeled down before they reached him. The Chanyu spat close to Tao’s nose. Tao didn’t want that glob to be the last thing he would see in his life. He looked up. Shi Le’s mouth had changed shape. It still didn’t resemble a smile, but at least it wasn’t a sneer.
“You advised me well, monk,” he said, squinting into the distance over Fo Tu Deng’s left shoulder. “We reached the mountains in time to ambush the New Han as they emerged from the pass.”
Tao couldn’t believe it.
“They had hoped to take us by surprise, but we gave them the surprise. We slaughtered many and captured their leader.” He laughed, as if it was an amusing way to pass the time. “They suspected nothing. My men picked them off like rabbits coming out of a burrow.”
Tao was astounded that his guesses had proved to be true, but he was also horrified by their effect.
Fo Tu Deng was suddenly lively again, trying to calculate how to turn the situation to his advantage. He seemed to have no qualms about serving the murderous general.
“I am glad I was of service to you, Chanyu,” he said.
Shi Le’s servants brought him meat and kumiss. He sank onto a stool and waved his hand at the monk. “Come and sit beside me. Have some kumiss.”