Dragonkeeper 2: Garden of the Purple Dragon (10 page)

The guards realised what Ping was doing.

“You shouldn’t be spying on the Princess!” one of them hissed, prodding her until she went back to the path.

As they led her away, Ping looked back at the weeping woman with new curiosity.

The guards suddenly froze in their tracks, looks of terror on their faces.

“What is the prisoner doing wandering around the gardens?” said a voice.

Both guards fell to their knees and bowed their heads to the ground.

Ping knew who it was without having to turn her head. It was Liu Che—the Emperor.

Liu Che was standing with his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn’t wearing the yellow ceremonial gown that he had worn the last time Ping had seen him, but a dark blue satin one embroidered with gold. Over the gown, he wore a fur-trimmed sleeveless coat. He looked weary. Three government ministers, several servants and a number of imperial guards were hurrying along the path. As usual they were having trouble keeping up with him.

The Emperor’s expression was grim, just as it had
been when Ping first met him. Despite this, she felt a bubble of hope form inside her. Surely he would understand that she’d only done what she thought was right. She sank to her knees and lowered her head till her forehead touched the stone path.

“It’s good to see you again, Your Imperial Majesty,” Ping said.

“Don’t speak to His Imperial Majesty!” one of the guards said, kicking her.

“I will permit the prisoner to answer my questions,” the Emperor said.

Ping saw his feet move towards her.

“You allowed my dragon to escape,” he said bluntly.

It wasn’t actually a question, but Ping replied anyway.

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. I felt it was my only choice. Danzi was wounded. He wouldn’t have lived long in captivity.”

“You deserted your imperial post.”

“Yes.”

She lifted her head so that she could see him.

The guards started to move towards her, but the Emperor raised his hand to stop them. Liu Che had changed. He was no longer a boy, but a young man. He had grown several inches. His hair was pulled into a tight knot on the back of his head and he wore a flat, square headdress with black beads hanging from the corners. Ping was suddenly aware of her crumpled
gown, her untidy hair, her dirty fingernails. She wished she looked better. The Emperor didn’t return her gaze. He watched a snail crawl out of her pouch. There was a look of anger and distaste on his face, but Ping was so happy to see him she couldn’t stop her mouth from smiling. Her thoughts formed into words and escaped from her mouth. “You look older.”

He scowled at her. “That is no compliment.”

His smooth skin was the colour of hazelnuts. His mouth, though stern, had a pleasant shape. The small scar that cut through his right eyebrow was the only imperfection. The Emperor looked into her eyes and Ping’s smile faded. His dark eyes were as cold as stones in winter.

Ping had hoped that once he saw her, Liu Che would remember their friendship and forgive her. There was no hint of warmth in him, only anger.

“So where is my dragon?” the Emperor demanded.

Dong Fang Suo came puffing up the path and stood panting behind the Emperor.

“Danzi flew across Ocean to the Isle of the Blest with Hua,” Ping replied. “I don’t know if he survived the journey.”

“Your rat went to the Isle of the Blest?” the Imperial Magician asked.

The Emperor was about to reprove the Imperial Magician for interrupting, but then he stopped and turned back to Ping.

“Did he?”

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“This is the same rat that we have now?” the Imperial Magician continued. “The one with the blue eyes?”

Ping nodded.

Everyone knew about the Isle of the Blest, the magical place that was supposed to lie over Ocean. Stories told of trees that bore giant peaches of immortality and the fungus of everlasting life. There was also a stream of jade water—the water of life. Some people had set out in flimsy boats to find the magical island. No one had ever returned. This was Ping’s only hope now. As long as the Emperor thought she had knowledge of the Isle of the Blest, he might keep her alive.

“Unfortunately the rat escaped while the Longevity Council were examining it, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Imperial Magician confessed.

Ping’s heart leapt. Hua was free.

“Do you know where it is?” the Emperor asked Ping.

She could honestly say that she had no idea where Hua was.

“I want the rat found,” the Emperor commanded.

Dong Fang Suo bowed. “Whatever Your Imperial Majesty commands,” he said.

One of the other ministers stepped forward and kneeled before the Emperor.

“The punishment for stealing an imperial dragon is
death, Your Imperial Majesty,” he said. “Is it your wish that the prisoner be executed?”

The Emperor’s face turned hard again.

“Not yet.”

He turned and walked away.

The guards prodded Ping with their spears and marched her back to her prison.

Kai popped back into his dragon shape as soon as the guards left. She gave him the few snails and slugs that she had collected for him. He ate them, but continued to make low, sad sounds. She sat down in the straw and let him drink a little more of her blood.

Ping had saved a sharp piece of bone that she’d found in her gruel. She stayed up most of the night trying to saw through one of the bamboo canes of her prison with it. If she could remove just one cane they could escape and she and Kai could take their chances in the Tiger Forest. The only other choice was to reveal Kai to the Emperor. Once that was done, there would be no turning back. The little dragon would be kept in captivity for the rest of his life. That wasn’t what Danzi had wanted. Though he had been in captivity at Huangling for many years, he had spent many hundreds of years free.

The next morning, Ping was allowed to walk in the garden again, but the same pair of imperial guards were always a few steps behind her, spears at the ready in case
she attempted any sorcery. She didn’t want to go to the Garden of Secluded Harmony again. The looming tower spoiled the design of the walled garden. She was too weak to walk that far anyway.

Dong Fang Suo appeared suddenly from behind a tree just as she was squashing a large slug. He was the only person who didn’t seem to be afraid of her. Before he had a chance to say anything, Ping asked a question of her own.

“Who is the woman imprisoned in the bamboo grove?” she asked.

“That is the Emperor’s sister, Princess Yangxin,” Dong Fang Suo replied. “But she is not imprisoned.”

“Then why is she so unhappy?”

The Imperial Magician looked around to make sure the guards couldn’t hear.

“Her father arranged a marriage for her with the Duke of Yan. Politically it was an excellent marriage. In the past, disputes with the State of Yan cost the lives of many imperial soldiers. There were rumours that the Duke might even join with the barbarians on the other side of the Great Wall. That would be a great threat to the Empire. The marriage brought peace with Yan.”

The Imperial Magician continued to smile even though the story was very serious.

“Unfortunately the marriage was not as desirable for the Princess. Her husband is an old man, rather coarse in his eating habits, who already has six wives. Her
Imperial Highness has spent several years in lands within arrow range of barbarian invaders.”

“She must have been very lonely,” Ping said. “But she’s here now, so the Duke must have allowed her to visit her brother.”

The Imperial Magician turned in the direction of the pavilion.

“No one has seen her smile for six years.”

His own smile shrank to a small curve like a piece of orange rind. That seemed to be as close as he could get to a frown.

He asked her questions about Danzi. Did she expect him to return? Had he spoken of other dragons? What magical powers did he have? Half an hour later, he hurried off just as unexpectedly, halfway through a sentence.

The rest of the day dragged by as Ping listened to the miserable screeches of the monkeys and the soft padding of the black cat. Then Dong Fang Suo appeared on the other side of her cage and continued their conversation where he had left off as if he had merely paused for thought, rather than disappeared for half a day. Ping tried to answer the Imperial Magician’s questions, but needed all of her concentration just to stay awake.

The next day, Ping knew that she couldn’t bleed herself again without collapsing. The guards came to take her for her daily walk.

“I’m going to take you out into the garden today,” she told Kai. She turned her back on the guards as Kai
wrapped his tail around her arm and took on the shape of the soup ladle.

“Why do you want to take that with you?” asked the guard with the thin moustache.

“So that I can drink from a stream,” she said. “If I get thirsty.”

The guards weren’t quite so afraid of their pale, quiet prisoner now. They looked at each other and shrugged.

They led her to a quiet part of the garden. No one else seemed to go there, not even the gardeners, who had neglected the fallen leaves, leaving them to pile in corners. Out of sight of their captain, the guards sat on one of the stone benches and played a game with pebbles.

The breeze carried the faint sound of crying. Ping wanted to get another glimpse of the weeping Princess, but she didn’t have the strength to walk that far. She was just thinking that she would have to reveal Kai to the Emperor, when she noticed one of the piles of leaves shifting. She thought loss of blood was making her see things. A rat’s head appeared among the leaves. Ping clamped her hand over her mouth to stop a cry of pleasure escaping. She glanced at the guards, who were still lounging on the stone bench.

“Hua!” she whispered. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

She picked up the rat and examined him. A patch
of fur had been neatly shaved off him and several of his whiskers were missing.

“What have they done to you?”

Dong Fang Suo suddenly popped out from behind a twisted rock. Hua dived back under the pile of leaves.

“And the dragon’s speech?” the Imperial Magician asked.

He carried on his conversation from the previous day as if he’d just paused to order his thoughts. Ping felt so weak, she was worried she might fall into a faint. She focused on the magician’s misshapen slippers.

“Were you the only one who could understand it?”

“I have only met one other person who could understand dragon speech,” Ping replied. “That was Wang Cao, the herbalist. Unfortunately a dragon hunter killed him. But he wasn’t a true Dragonkeeper. He didn’t have second sight.”

“Did you always understand Danzi?” he asked.

“No, understanding only seems to come when the Dragonkeeper has been in the company of a dragon for some time.”

Dong Fang Suo nodded his head. “The same as the second sight,” he said.

“Yes.”

The Imperial Magician thought about this for quite a long time. Then he spoke again. “Come with me, Ping. The Longevity Council is waiting.”

The Imperial Magician led Ping to the Chamber
of Spreading Clouds. Ping slowly followed him. Two carved chairs with cushions on them had been placed at one end of the chamber. The other four members of the Longevity Council were gathered there. A nervous-looking imperial guard came in carrying a cloth bundle. He placed it on a low table and gingerly opened out the corners. The bundle contained all her belongings—her gold coins, her jade pendant, the dragon-stone shards, the dragon scale, the large leaf folded in half. Her comb, sewing needle and thread were also there. Her cooking things were there, as well as her hand-carved bucket and a soup ladle that was identical to the one hanging over Ping’s arm. The only things that weren’t there were the Dragonkeeper’s mirror, which she kept in a secret pocket sewn inside her gown, and the imperial seal, which was in her pouch.

The strange men of the Longevity Council inspected her belongings. They peered at her simple cooking utensils as if they might hold deep secrets. But they didn’t touch anything. They poked at her belongings with sticks—except for the blind minister who sniffed each item.

Everyone in the room suddenly collapsed to their knees and bowed their heads to the floor. The Emperor entered, sweeping into the room in his formal yellow satin gown woven through with soaring golden dragons. Ping was feeling faint, so she was
relieved to sink to her knees. A young woman was with the Emperor, her hand resting lightly on his arm. It was the weeping woman from the pavilion, Princess Yangxin. She was as slender as a sapling and took such tiny steps that she seemed to glide, like a swan on a still pool. Her gown was made of lilac silk gauze, which was so light it floated around her. Her sleeves were so deep they nearly reached the floor.

The Emperor escorted the Princess to one of the carved chairs. He took her hand to lend her support as she lowered herself gracefully onto it. A lady-in-waiting arranged the Princess’s gown around her. The Emperor smiled fondly at the Princess. Ping felt a pang of sadness. Perhaps he would smile at her again if he knew about Kai.

The Emperor gave permission for everyone to get to their feet. Ping stayed on her knees. She could see the Princess’s face for the first time. Her eyes glistened. They were dark and moist as if about to overflow with tears. Her lips were painted red, but her mouth was down-turned. Her face was as pale as moonlight. She was the most beautiful woman Ping had ever seen. But she was also the saddest. It wasn’t just her sorrowful face. A shroud of miserable sadness cloaked her just as the folds of her gorgeous gown did.

The Emperor didn’t sit. Without glancing in Ping’s direction, he went over to the low table and studied the things laid out on it. Ping felt very uncomfortable. Her
whole life was spread out on that table, all her hopes and secrets were there in full view for anyone who took the trouble to interpret the items. He reached out to pick up something.