Dragonkeeper, Page 2

  When Master Lan discovered she was keeping a rat as a pet, he ordered her to kill it. She had to keep Hua out of his sight. That’s when she’d got the idea of keeping him hidden in the folds of her jacket.

  She settled by the fire to enjoy the food and warmth in peace. This was her favourite time of day.

  “Life’s not so bad, is it Hua?” The rat was lying contentedly in front of the fire. “We’ve been out to see the world, we’ve got a meal inside us and we can warm our toes by the fire.” The rat rolled over so that she could scratch his full stomach. “And we’ve got each other.”

  • chapter two •

  AN EVIL NIGHT

  The beast roared again, a sound that

  made the girl want to curl up in a ball

  and weep.

  The following day, the slave girl felt guilty about taking the dragons’ food. She trudged through the snow to the shed where Lao Ma had just finished milking the goat. The old woman’s eyesight was poor. She didn’t notice the slave girl dipping a bowl into the bucket of warm milk as she chatted about the weather.

  The girl went down into the pit and put the bowl of milk in front of the coiled dragons. The larger dragon lifted its head. Two yellow eyes stared at her. It was the first time she’d seen the creature so close. It lapped up some milk and then lowered its head again. The slave girl was turning to leave when one of the dragons let out a roar. She’d never heard the beasts make any noise before. This was a terrible sound as if someone were crashing copper bowls together.

  “Loneliness,” the slave girl thought, though she didn’t know why.

  She put her hands over her ears to try and block out the mournful noise.

  “Misery.”

  The dragon continued to roar. Hua scrambled out of the girl’s jacket and ran away, squeaking.

  “Despair.” The word echoed in her mind, though she didn’t really know what it meant.

  A light appeared at the top of the steps. Master Lan stumbled down. Hua darted between his legs. Lao Ma was right behind Lan, but she was afraid of the dragons and wouldn’t go down the steps.

  “What have you done, brat?” Lan shouted.

  “Nothing,” said the girl, which was true. “I gave them their dinner last night as usual,” she said, which was not true.

  Master Lan approached the dragons timidly. He held the lamp in one hand and a bamboo stick in the other, ready to defend himself. His worn silk slipper squelched in dragon droppings. The beast roared again, a sound that made the girl want to curl up in a ball and weep.

  ”It’s an evil omen,” moaned Lao Ma from the top of the steps. “It could be the end of the world.”

  In the lamplight, the slave girl could see the yellow-eyed dragon sitting on its haunches. Its head was raised to the roof of the pit as it howled. The other dragon hadn’t moved. Master Lan prodded it with his bamboo stick, but it still didn’t stir.

  “It’s dead,” he said.

  The dragon howled louder still. Lao Ma wailed too.

  “This is your fault,” Lan swiped the girl on the side of the head. “You haven’t been looking after the beasts properly.”

  Master Lan surveyed the dragon’s corpse. “What a waste. That animal would have been worth five thousand gold jin to the right buyer.”

  “I did my best, master,” said the girl, though she knew she could have done more.

  “You’re a useless wretch. Don’t just stand there,” he shouted. “Help me drag it out.”

  The slave girl was frightened by the metallic sounds that the other dragon was making, but she was more frightened of her master. She crept towards the dead beast. The sight of its lifeless body filled her with sadness—with guilt too. She should have realised it was ailing. Master Lan grasped the dragon’s tail. The girl took hold of one of its taloned feet. It was the first time she had touched a dragon’s scaly hide. It was rough and dry like leather that had been left out in the weather for too long. Now that it was stretched full length, it was bigger than she had realised. They dragged the creature to the foot of the stairs, but it was too heavy for them to haul up even one of the steps.

  “Fetch the other men,” ordered Lan.

  The girl ran to collect the rest of the palace staff. There were only three of them—the gardener, the carpenter and the painter. They tied a rope around the dead dragon’s neck and all four men hauled on it. They dragged it up five steps. The sound of the dead body smacking against the stone made the girl feel sick. The other dragon howled with every blow. The men heaved and strained. Despite the cold, sweat ran down their faces as they strained to drag the body up the steps. The girl had never seen her master work so hard. As much as they tried, they couldn’t get the dragon all the way up the steps. In the end, the carpenter had to build a device with a wheel and a rope. With the help of this pulley the men hauled the dead beast out into the courtyard.

  The grey day was giving way to a darker grey twilight. A shower of rain turned to sleet. Icy drops, blown by a strong wind, stung the girl’s face and hands like sewing needles. It had taken all day to get the dead dragon out of the pit. The whole time the remaining dragon had continued to make its clashing metallic sounds that set the girl’s teeth on edge. She began to think that she’d have to listen to that awful noise for the rest of her life.

  “Build a fire,” shouted the Dragonkeeper.

  “What are you going to do?” the girl asked.

  “Don’t question me!” Lan snapped, his robes flapping in the wind.

  He turned to Lao Ma. “Bring out your biggest pot.”

  The girl had no idea what her master had in mind. Lao Ma seemed to know though. She shook her head and chanted prayers of forgiveness.

  “What’s going on?” the girl asked as she watched her master order the men to fetch wood and bring coals from his fireplace. Before long, despite the snow that was starting to fall, there was a fire blazing in the courtyard. The men placed a huge cooking pot on the fire and filled it with snow.

  The dragon kept howling from the pit. It chilled the girl more than the wind and snow. She wanted to crawl away and hide in the dark. But there was worse to come, much worse. Master Lan sent the girl to get an axe. The flames grew higher. He took the axe, raised it above his head and brought it down. The blade dug deep into the flesh of the dragon. Thick purple blood oozed from the wound. Lan cut out the dragon’s heart and liver and put them in a bowl. From the pit the howl of the other dragon grew louder. The slave girl covered her ears, and prayed for the soul of the dragon.

  ”Bring me garlic and vinegar,” Lan shouted. “I need eggplant and squash.”

  Lao Ma shook her head.

  Lan growled like an animal. “Do as I say.” He grabbed the old woman and shoved her in the direction of the food store. “You go with her, rat-girl,” he shouted. “You’ll both obey me or end up in the pickle too.”

  “Pickle?” The girl couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

  “Why is he making pickle?” she asked Lao Ma as they hurried into the food store. “Has he gone mad?”

  Lao Ma passed her a string of garlic and a jar of vinegar.

  “He wants to get rid of the evidence. The earth’s too frozen to bury the corpse. He can sell the heart, the liver and the bones, but he has to get rid of the rest. The Emperor doesn’t like the dragons, but if he finds out that Lan has failed in his duty to care for them, he’ll be executed just like his father.”

  “But why doesn’t he—”

  “Just do as he says, girl.”

  They hurried back with the ingredients. Heavy clouds hid the moon and the girl was glad. It meant she could see little as the Dragonkeeper hacked up the dead dragon, cackling as if it was the most amusing thing he’d done in a long while. He threw hunks of flesh into the steaming pot, scooped up the thickened blood from the snow and added that as well. He made the girl chop up the vegetables and throw them into the hideous mixture with the vinegar and garlic. Her fingers were stiff and clumsy from the cold. She tried
to focus on the snowflakes settling on her sleeve. The beautiful white flakes were visible for a moment as perfect star shapes, each one different, before the heat from the fire melted them. But they couldn’t distract her from the gruesome sight of Lan butchering the dragon flesh. The spicy smell made her empty stomach rumble, but she felt sick at the thought of eating. Things were never going to be the same at Huangling.

  Wild animals beyond the palace walls howled, joining the dragon in a horrible chorus. The flames licked around the pot, lighting up Lan’s blood-flecked face and reflecting in his wild eyes. As he stirred the pot, he looked like a demon. If they weren’t executed for treason, the girl felt sure they would all go to the worse regions of hell for the awful crime of pickling an imperial dragon. How hell could be a worse place than Huangling on that terrible night, she couldn’t imagine.

  • chapter three •

  THE IMPERIAL BANQUET

  “Bow down or you will be beheaded, slave,”

  he shouted.

  The girl threw herself to the floor, lying flat

  on her stomach.

  The girl opened her eyes. During the night, she’d been waiting for thunderbolts to fall down from Heaven or imperial guards to come crashing through the gates. Nothing had happened. She hadn’t expected to see another morning, but a blood-red stain on the eastern sky proved her wrong. She had fallen asleep by the fire, which was now nothing but a circle of smoking ashes. She was icy cold. Her clothes were stiff where the snow had turned to ice. The cooking pot was lying empty on its side. Next to it was a jagged, snow-covered shape that she couldn’t identify in the early morning light. She got stiffly to her feet. As the sky grew lighter, she realised it was a pile of broken, bloody bones. Mercifully, the dragon had stopped howling from the pit.

  All that day the girl prayed to the immortals for forgiveness, promising to take good care of the remaining dragon. Master Lan rode down the mountain with the dragon’s heart and liver in a jar, the bones in sacks. The jars of pickle disappeared into the kitchens. The next day passed and still no heavenly vengeance arrived to punish them for their sins. At the very least she was expecting regular beatings from Master Lan, but when he returned all he did was make her shovel the animal manure for the gardener. He didn’t mention the night of the pickling.

  “I should have paid more attention when I bought you, rat-girl,” Lan said as he watched the slave girl pick up the empty wine jars scattered around his bed.

  His hair, which was supposed to be in a tight knot on the top of his head, was falling over his eyes. His robes were stained with spilt wine.

  “I didn’t realise you were cursed.”

  The girl tried to pick up the jars with her right hand.

  “Your wretched parents should have told me you were left-handed.”

  The mention of her parents made the girl fumble. She dropped a jar. It smashed into pieces.

  ”Idiot,” snarled Lan. “No wonder you were so cheap. I’ve had nothing but bad luck since you arrived.”

  The Dragonkeeper threw the nearest thing at the girl—a bronze lamp shaped like a ram.

  The girl tried to convince herself otherwise, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was her fault the dragon had died. She hadn’t taken as much care of the dragons as she had the other animals. She was fond of the big-eyed oxen. The goat’s antics made her laugh. She talked to the pigs and they grunted back. The dragons had always made her uncomfortable. She promised the gods she would be kinder to the remaining dragon.

  The first thing she did was clean the dragon’s pit. It took many trips up and down the steps to take out the stinking straw and to carry down buckets of hot water to scrub the floor. The dragon showed little interest until she reached the farthest corner of the pit. Then it suddenly became very agitated, or at least the girl thought it was agitated by the sounds it made—like someone rapidly beating a gong. The girl had smuggled the oil lamp into the pit so that she could clean properly. The lamp provided only a pinpoint of brightness as the dull black rock sucked up its light. She was surprised, then, to see a faint reflection in the back corner of the dungeon. She moved the lamp closer to investigate. The anxious gonging of the dragon grew faster. Wedged in a recess at the back of the dungeon was something oval and about the size of a melon. It was smeared with dragon’s droppings. The girl picked it up. It was cold to touch. She wiped a patch with her sleeve and held it close to the light. She gasped. It was beautiful. A large, purple stone with swirls of milky white disappearing into its depths. An image appeared in her mind—a wide expanse of blue. She didn’t know what it was. The image came and went in a flash.

  A noise startled her. It was a deep rumbling sound like someone pounding a drum made of beaten metal.

  “Don’t touch stone!” She looked around, but the voice seemed to be inside her mind, as it had been on the night of the pickling. This time it wasn’t sad, it was angry.

  The girl turned. Behind her there was a terrifying monster rearing up on its haunches. Its yellow eyes were narrowed to slits. Its huge teeth were bared. For the first time, the girl was afraid of the dragon. She put the stone back in its alcove.

  “I wasn’t going to take it,” she stammered, though she didn’t know who she was talking to. “I have no use for it.”

  The dragon settled down onto its four feet and slunk back to the bed of fresh straw. The girl sat still while the pounding of her heart slowed and her hands stopped shaking. Lao Ma had told her stories of dragons that guarded hoards of gold and jewels. Perhaps this was all that was left of the dragon’s hoard. She tried to remember the image that had flashed into her mind. The more she tried to recall it, the more indistinct it became, until she couldn’t remember it at all.

  “What do you think dragons like to eat, Hua?” she asked the rat that evening.

  She had tried different combinations of vegetables in the dragon’s meals to encourage him to eat more. He still ate little. Hua was gnawing on a chicken bone he’d found.

  “You’re right!” the girl exclaimed. “He might be different to the other animals. He might like to eat meat like you.”

  She took a bowl of her own chicken gruel to the dragon. He didn’t eat it immediately, but when she returned the next morning, the bowl was empty.

  After that, she brought meat whenever she could and stole milk as often as she dared. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she thought that the dragon’s appearance was improving. With time and patience, the dragon might come to trust her and look forward to her visits as much as the oxen and the goat did.

  A week passed and then another. It snowed less. Occasional patches of pale blue sky showed through the clouds.

  ”What the dragon really needs is some fresh air,” the slave girl said to Hua one morning. “He better not try to run away, though.”

  The other men were away hunting. Lao Ma was working in the palace somewhere. When Master Lan was having his afternoon nap, the girl went down into the pit. She tied a length of rope around the dragon’s neck and gently led him to the stone steps. The dragon lifted one foot onto the first step. Then he placed another foot on the second step. His limbs were stiff from lack of use. Each step seemed to cause him pain. She coaxed the creature up one step at a time and eventually he came up into the courtyard. Sunlight seeped through gaps in the cloud cover like water from a cracked bucket. The dragon covered his eyes with one paw. It was some minutes before his eyes grew used to the daylight.

  The girl slowly led the dragon around the courtyard. Startled chickens squawked and flapped out of their way. When there was a larger break in the clouds and sunlight lit a patch of the courtyard, the dragon moved to stand in it.

  “It must be a long time since you felt the warmth of the sun,” the girl said, patting his scaly neck.

  For the first time, she could see the dragon clearly and she couldn’t help staring. He was bigger than she’d imagined. From nose to tail he was the length of three men, but his body curved and coiled like a snake
’s, so that he could appear to be much smaller if he wanted. At the shoulder he stood no higher than a young ox. When he raised his head to its full height, he was eye to eye with the girl. In the sunlight, his scales were greeny blue, the colour of water in a deep spring. His head was crowned with two long, curved horns with needle-sharp points. He had long whiskers, not of hair but of sinewy strands that hung down on either side of his bulbous nose. His body narrowed to a snake-like tail. Tufts of long hair sprouted from behind his knees. His stocky legs ended in feet like large cats’ paws with soft pads beneath them. Each foot was armed with four long, sharp talons. Unlike cats’ claws, they didn’t retract, they were always out and looking dangerous. His teeth were also large and frightening, but the dragon’s soft red lips made it look more like he was smiling than baring his teeth when his mouth was open.

  She took the dragon up into the courtyard every day. After a week, she let him walk around untethered. She discovered a soft, unscaly spot under his chin where he liked to be scratched. He made gentle metallic noises, the same sounds that he made whenever she brought him milk. They sounded like the wind chimes that hung outside the palace entrance hall to ward off evil spirits. It was a melancholy sound, but the girl thought it meant he was pleased.

  A rasping voice disturbed the peace of the courtyard.

  “Where are you, wretch?” Master Lan was awake.

  “You can stay out here in the sun for a while if you like,” the girl said to the dragon.

  She tied the dragon to a water trough and ran to her master before he came looking for her.

  “I’ll have pork for my meal tonight,” the Dragonkeeper said when she arrived out of breath. It was only midafternoon but the floor was already littered with wine jars. “With some of that excellent pickle I made some weeks back. The flavours should be nicely matured by now.”