Chasing the Dragon (36 page)

Zal slid the compact out of his pocket and nudged the dwarf's foot
with one hand. Mr. V opened one eye, then both, and peered at Zal
before clapping his book shut and sitting up. He glanced down and
saw the silver circle in Zal's hand, and his eyes went as round as circles
themselves. "You got it," he whispered.

Zal nodded. The firelight's merry orange flicker was reflected in the
case, and a thousand times over in its many small diamonds as he gave
it to Mr. V.

Mr. V stroked the case with delicate awe. "You have no idea ..."
He was choking up, and then he gave a little cough to clear his throat
and hummed for a second. He turned the case over a few times and
examined the simple pattern of its division into halves, one smooth
and polished, the other encrusted with gemstones that shot light in all
directions. One of these hit Zal in the eye and he was blinded for a
second in which he saw the scene before him refracted, bent around on itself.... Then the moment passed and he found himself rubbing his
stitching.

"Careful," Mr. V whispered to himself and Zal. "Easy does it. Dangerous visions for those who don't know. Dangerous. Now." His
stubby fingers worked sensitively around the circumference. Zal
thought he was searching for the hidden opener that must surely be
there, or the gap where a sturdy fingernail could prise the shell open.
But instead he saw Mr. V's hand stretch to its utmost, placing all fingertips and thumb to the rim. He did the same with his other hand,
each one gripping the lip of one half of the compact. He rotated them
gently, and from the silver came the strangest sound, as if a huge metal
gate was being dragged across a vast block of stone. It was a quiet
sound but unmistakable. It finished with a heavy thudded clink, as of
a mighty bolt being drawn, another one being shot firmly home.

Zal glanced at Mr. V's face. The dwarf was sweating, beads of effort
forming in the lines of his forehead and beginning to run along the
deep channels of his cheeks. Neither of them made a sound. They listened as Mr. V continued to turn the halves, and after a while Zal
began to understand that the clinks and thuds made a pattern, with
other, softer noises like jingling keys behind them. He realised that
Mr. V was listening for telltales; he was picking a combination lock.

After a while, as the fire burnt low and Mr. V's collar dampened,
there was a new sound of bolts that drew back only and a faint ringing
tone as if a bell had been struck, but only the end of the sound was
audible, not the strike. Mr. V released his hold with a sigh and looked
at what lay in his hand. The diamonds had moved their places, and
now they built a picture in the centre of the compact. It showed something like an octopus, Zal thought, but he got no further for Mr. V
gave a cry of horror and quickly twisted the dials again with a great
clanking and shuffling that made Zal start and go look for the cat
again. She was nowhere to be seen.

The work continued while Zal rebuilt the fire, checked Mina's bedroom, and watched the sluggish daylight begin to set. He hoped
Mr. V succeeded soon, but as he drew the curtains the glimmer of
unseen suns waned with the swiftness of an axe descending and before
he could reach Mr. V's armchair night had come and he was once again
a big cloth doll, slumped on the rug unconscious and helpless as the
dwarf clicked on and on into the hours of the dark.

It was morning when Zal woke up. He never needed to eat or drink
so he was quite ready to see Mr. V's excited face as the dwarf beckoned
him close to the embers of the night's fire. "I have done it," he said to
himself, fondling the compact and staring at it in wonder. "Bless you,
lost one." He showed Zal, but before Zal could see the pattern of the
diamonds he became stern and said quickly, "Don't look at it directly.
Go to the side of the room!"

When he'd done so the dwarf opened the case like a clamshell,
angling it so that Zal couldn't have looked inside even if he'd wanted
to. A soft green light shone up into the little wrinkled face, which held
an expression of delight so great it couldn't have been more joyful than
if he was seeing heaven. Then the light shimmered.

From the palm-sized circle that rested on that small, creased hand
a large talon was emerging, black, curved, and cruel looking. It was as
big as Mr. V's forearm and quite impossibly huge for anything that
could have been in a powder case. But this was nothing. In a second it
was joined by another four the same, and then an equally outsize and
matching hand came with it, a kind of a hand anyway, deep emerald
green in colour and faceted like a jewel, the daylight sliding on its
long, heavily knuckled fingers and vast palm. An arm followed, clad in
crystal scales of increasing size, and then an elbow, and then another
hand, arm, elbow, and then in a smooth, easy manoeuvre there came a
mighty head, bigger than the whole fireplace, mantelpiece, and chimneybreast together. With the sudden slither of an easy birth the entire
form of the giant dragon then came in a rush. If it hadn't been a purely
spiritual form it would have burst the walls, brought the house down, and crushed them flat. As it was it filled the entire room in translucent,
tight-packed coils, able to contain itself and fold itself up, as if being
concertinaed and having several body parts occupy the same space was
entirely natural.

Mr. V dropped the clamshell and held out his arms wide in a rapturous embrace, and the dragon shoved its head forward, frills and fans
and horns alight with gemfire. There was a sighing sound from them
both and then Mr. V was standing there alone, his green eyes sparkling,
looking so happy he might float off right there. He didn't, however. In
a moment he had caught up to the compact and snapped it shut. He
came bustling quickly over to Zal and put the little object into his
thick cloth hands, folding Zal's awkward fingers over it tightly.

"You're a-" Zal began, but Mr. V stood on tiptoes and put his
finger to his lips with an expression of desperate earnestness.

"Yes," he said. "And I was her prisoner. For lifetimes without
number. And you have freed me. This is her prison." He shook Zal's
hands, still gripping them fiercely. "My spirit was trapped inside it.
She kept it so I might never leave. I must be Mina's guardian and protector, look after her always." Tears were filling his eyes now and
spilling down his face as he looked up at Zal with such kindness and
love Zal thought he would start crying too, except he wasn't able to.
"And," continued Mr. V, whispering swiftly, "I would have been here
forever if not for you."

"But I don't understand," Zal said. "I have been here ages. Why
did you wait so long?"

Mr. V pulled him down close, glanced around them, and then said
rapidly. "At first I didn't understand what you were. I didn't know if
you were like me, stuck in there too, or if you were different. It took
time. I had to see. And then, when I was sure who you were, and what,
I knew it was possible but I still had to find a thing of equal weight so
she would not miss it."

"The book?" Zal knelt down and sat on his heels. He would have put the mirror in his inside pocket to protect it in case the cat
returned, but Mr. V was holding him too tightly.

"Yes indeed. You see, there is a library here in this house of infinite
content. Every book that will ever be or could have been, might have,
was, ought, should, wasn't ... they're all in there. But of course it's
Mina's and she's hardly a librarian. I had to find something. And I did.
I did. But now we must be swift. Listen to me. Soon Lily will know
the mirror is gone."

"Mirror?" Zal felt he was plaguing Mr. V with questions but he
couldn't help it.

"The prison is made of the two null mirrors of the Septagon....
We don't have time now for a lore lesson, boy. Just know that it is two
mirrors that face each other. What then?" His stare was intense,
unblinking, getting rather strong for Zal, who was almost hypnotised.

"Um ... I don't know ... an infinite regress of images ..."

"Yes, exactly. The infinite prison. No end, no beginning. There are
others in there."

"When you unlocked the other combinations ..."

"Yes."

"Who are they?"

Mr. V shook his head. "I saw very many. None of which I would
release. Do not try to open this again. Many are in there for good
reason. Fate makes her mistakes like anyone, has her moments. I know,
I know, why should you trust me when I have just shown you this? But
you must. Do not try to open it. At the least you will find an empty
cell and, once you look into it, you will be there until someone willingly lets you out. It's time to return it now. Will you do that for me?"

"Well ..." Zal hesitated. "You said you knew about me. Can't you
tell me what that was? Not that I want to play on the fact I did you a
favour unknowingly, you understand."

The dwarf's green eyes sparkled. "Aye, play me, would you, boy?
Ah, last time I played I didn't know who I played with either." His face became bleak and suddenly old, full of pain. His fingers on Zal's
gripped hard enough to hurt, cloth or no. "And I sense a geas on you,
yes, from herself, the final sister. Even she could not let me out. But
you could. I will tell you when you return the book."

"And then what? Are you leaving? Won't they find out what I've
done?" Zal suddenly sensed there might be a fate worse than death. In
his hand the silver compact was cold.

"The sisters always have their little feuds," Mr. V said with an airy
manner but a significant nod and wink that indicated the feuds were
on epic scales. "You are Glinda's. That was the first part I knew, and
Lily was playing with you. And then, having heard you talk and seen
you about I began to realise how it was. What you were in your life,
all that you were, is almost gone. Whatever happened to bring you
here in this state, it was the ending of that, almost entirely. But while
memory and mind has fallen into the past, spirit does not fall. You
have yours still, so you are not someone dead they have pulled out of
the weft, you are not someone undead walking and talking. You have
lost only memories, but you are truly alive and free. If you had only the
wit or inclination to leave here they could not stop you." He paused
and smiled at Zal's expression. "Did you not know? I see not. And that
is what enabled you to get this. I hope you will forgive my own game
with you and presumption on you. I hope you understand why I did
not enlighten you immediately."

Zal was thinking. It was hard. Lint wasn't suited to the task. He
was quick to reassure Mr. V nonetheless. "Yeah, of course. But what if
I keep it?"

"It would not do to make an enemy of her. She controls the warp, and
that means she can pull threads in the lives of all you cross and not only
your own. She is a prodigious weaver, a knotter, a tangier.... Do not."

Zal sagged slightly. "But what will happen to you if you go?
You're going to go, aren't you?"

Mr. V's face became kindly and old again, like the grandfather Zal had never had. "Yes. I am going because I was tricked into staying. I
have paid for my mistake. Mina doesn't need me. They can make other
servants." He shuddered slightly as he said this but he carried on.
"Dragons are not part of the warp or the weft. We are ... hm, the
analogy breaks down a little ... we are like free shuttles. She has no
power to yank my strings, and I have some power to ruin hers so I
think she will consider us quit and be wary of me from now on. Not
that I have any wish to see her again. Besides, who would miss me?"

"Well, I would," Zal said. "Nobody else talked to me. Except
'biancs and-"

Mr. V put his hand to Zal's mouth. "Say no more, boy. Nobody
finds the Yin a happy companion, though she has her place. She'd be a
great deal more pleasant if the other one hadn't run off, but we all have
our losses to bear."

Zal didn't know what to make of this. He thought he'd try to
remember for later since he was short on memories. "Can I go too? Can
I go with you?"

"No," Mr. V said sadly. "No, you can't survive as I do. I could not
travel safely and be sure I wouldn't kill you each second in the way I
move. But you can leave."

"Oh, I suppose you mean the fire." Zal glanced at the embers,
coated in ash, thought of himself as those ashes with fear and reluctance.

"Yes. Or you can answer the geas, the burden Glinda wishes you to
bear."

"Would I be dead?" Zal asked, continuing to stare at the ash.
"Would it hurt? If I become part of the strands of light, won't I lose
everything?"

"It may be," the dragon said. "But you have an affinity for fire.
Maybe you would be burned-there is always a chance of that with fire.
But maybe not. Anyway, understand that this is not only true because
you are here, and made of unsuited things. Anywhere. Anytime. Do you understand me? If you are not consumed fire can be your path, Zal. It
always was. Come." He took Zal's hand, slid the silver compact into
Zal's pocket carefully, as if giving him a gift, then led him to the fire
surround-a silver guard decorated with grapes and vines. Gently he
sat him down facing the weak heat and then, as he had for countless
days and nights, Mr. V busied himself with the log basket and built up
the fire again, expertly laying the pieces and adjusting the flue. Zal
found it almost impossible to imagine being here without him. He
wanted to catch the little man's sleeve and cling to it.

"Now," Mr. V said, caressing the logs lightly with his fingers.

Green flame played gently on their broken bark and then darted
inwards to the old fire. Within moments the dry, seasoned wood had
caught and was burning enough to allow flames to dance through the
gaps and up, reaching for the sky.

"In yesterday's suns," he said softly to Zal. "Your memories were
made. Look again. Look again. Is there anything?"