Eon: Dragoneye Reborn

CHAPTER 3

A touch on my arm awoke me. I was sitting slumped against the wall next to my altar, my face pressed against the cold stone. I focused on the slim figure squatting beside me in the dim light.

Rilla.

'The master will rise soon,' she said softly

A spike of apprehension cleared my head. The red prayer candle in front of the death plaques had burned to a stump of wax, and the small offering bowl of fish and rice smelled of the hours gone by. I pushed myself upright, smoothing a crease in the sleeve of my ceremonial tunic.

'I shouldn't have slept.'

Rilla touched my tightly clubbed hair. 'Don't worry No one saw you.' She stood, stifling a yawn. 'The dawn bell will ring soon. Be quick if you wish to say goodbye to Chart.'

I nodded, massaging the chill from my face and neck. My master had made the smallest of the stone storerooms at the back of the house into a dormitory for his candidates. In these summer months it was a sanctuary of cool air, but it was a bitter cell in winter. I looked around the cramped room that had been home for four years: my bed, still in its roll against the wall; an old clothes press; the writing rest where I had kneeled for such long hours and studied; and a squat earthenware brazier topped by a pot I'd found on the rubbish pile. Such luxury compared to the salt farm. Was this the last time I would see it all? Or would I be back?

'I'll send one of the girls to tell you when the master is dressed,' Rilla said, pushing open the shutters that covered the narrow window.

'Thank you, Rilla.'

She paused at the door. 'Chart and I have been praying for your success, Eon. But know also, we will miss you.'

For a moment, her eyes met mine and I saw fear and worry in the sharpened lines of her face.

Then she smiled and left. If I failed today, would my master sell Rilla and Chart? Their service bonds were not even half paid; Chart had shown me Rilla's reckoning stick hidden behind a loose brick in the kitchen.

I crossed over to the brazier, my movement releasing the rich smell of the cleansing herbs on my skin. And me? If I failed, would I be returned to the salt farm? The memory of working in the choking dust made me cough and gag. I pressed my hands on my chest feeling for the flow of Hua, the life force. All I could feel was the fine silk of the ceremonial tunic and the unyielding flatness of my tight breast-band. My master had taught me the basics of tracing my Hua through the seven points of power, but it was a technique that took a lifetime to control. I turned my mind's-eye inwards, groping along the meridians. Finally, I located the blockage: in the base of my spine, the seat of fear. I breathed slowly until the rigid knot softened.

I kneeled on the stone floor and cleaned the ashes out of the body of the brazier. Something was stirring within me. A familiar dicker of awareness. It was during my Moon days that my shadow-self — Eona — darkened into strange thoughts and uneasy feelings. It seemed that while the ghost-maker's tea had eased yesterday's cramps and prevented the bleeding, il had not yet washed the shadows away I could not afford to let Eona come forward and bring her troubling desires into my mind. I pushed her away, concentrating on stacking twigs and small slivers of charcoal in the brazier. A strike of the inch stick, and the tinder sparked into life. I blew on the wavering flame until it caught and held, then angled the pot to check the water level. There was just enough to make the tea. Perhaps this dose would chase her away If I failed, my master would not need me as a boy.

I hunched a shoulder, trying to shrug off the unwelcome thought.

Then offer him a girl's body. It was in his eyes during the cleansing ritual.

No, that was not true! There had been nothing in my master's eyes during the ritual. He'd said the words, poured the fragrant water over my head, then left me to wash and oil myself. I had seen nothing in his eyes. I leaned over the pot, urging it to heat faster. A pinch of tea in my cup, then the near-boiled water, all mixed with a twig. I drank it in one, the sting of the heat and the foul taste driving out Eona's unsettling thoughts.

The sky through the window was brightening. I tucked the pouch into my trousers and brushed specks of ash and tea off the tunic. I had worn the rich garments during my vigil to honour my new-found ancestors. They were made from the softest material I had ever worn: a close silk weave in the rich red of the candidate. Twelve gold embroidered dragons were worked around the hemline of the tunic, and the sash ends were edged with gold tassels. The cloth was like oiled water against my skin and, when it moved, the sound was the wind's whisper. No wonder the nobles acted like gods: they'd captured the very elements in their robes. I pulled on the matching red leather slippers, flexing my feet at the unfamiliar confinement. They were edged in gold thread and had the same dragon design painted on the toes. What had all this finery cost my master?

I stood and practised a few steps of the first sequence, feeling for the difference in toe grip as I spun from the Rat Dragon First into the second form. The leather soles had greater slip than my old sandals; it could be treacherous on the hard-packed sand of the Dragon Arena. I spun again and again, adjusting my weight into the floor, enjoying the swirl of the silk tunic as it flared and settled around my body

The clang of the oven lid in the kitchen brought me to a halt. Kuno, banking the fires. It was close to dawn break and there was still much to do. I hurried over to the clothes press, digging under my folded work tunic for the scroll. After three months of snatched moments, I had finally finished it: a black ink painting of the roads and landscape around my master's house.

It was made up of scraps of mulberry paper from the paper-maker near the school; he'd allowed me to have the edges of the clean cuts and I'd stitched them together to make the roll.

The painting was in the style of the great Master Quidan — a long thin rendering that was meant to be opened in small sections for meditation upon the landscape. Would Chart like it?

I knew my artistry was poor, but perhaps it would help him imagine the world outside the kitchen. I fingered the plain wooden sticks fixed to the ends. I would miss describing our neighbourhood to him and laughing at his wicked comments.

The small inner courtyard was quiet. I tucked the scroll into my sleeve and stood for a moment in the doorway, the soft morning air and stillness moving through me like a meditation. Should I chance calling the Rat Dragon? One last look before the ceremony?

Maybe this time he would acknowledge me. I took a deep breath, narrowing my mind's-eye to the north-northwest. A shimmering outline of the dragon formed, a hint of the huge horse-like head and snake-shaped body Then the edges of the vision began to fray. My legs buckled as a hollowing drain dragged at my consciousness. I snatched all of my self back, falling painfully to my knees. I had never seen anything like it

before. Panting, I leaned against the doorframe and turned my attention inwards, clumsily tracing the flow of my Hua. There didn't seem to be any damage and my strength was already returning. Maybe it had happened because the Rat Dragon was ascending today. I took a few deep breaths, then pulled myself upright and headed slowly to the kitchen. At least the strange mind-sight that had brought me to this day was still within me. Whether that meant anything to the Rat Dragon would soon be made clear.

At the kitchen door, I slipped off the shoes then stepped inside. Kuno was standing over the stoves stirring my master's morning soup. The smell of the rich broth and steaming buns made my stomach pinch. I licked my lips, remembering the piece of bread hidden in my room.

'E…on?' Chart peered around the leg of the preparation table. He rolled his eyes at my finery

'Little lord.'

Kuno sniffed at me as I brushed past him and squatted painfully beside Chart.

'There'll be hell to pay if he dirties those new robes of yours,' Kuno said. He stamped across the kitchen and disappeared into the dry-goods pantry.

Chart twisted closer to me. He touched the bottom of the tunic. 'So soft…like a girl's bottom.'

'How would you know,' I scoffed.

'Know more…than you.' He waggled his eyebrows. 'Maids think…poor Chart…doesn't…know what he's doing.'

I shook my head at his cheerful lewdness. 'I have something for you,' I said, pulling the scroll out and placing it on his mat.

He touched it, his eyes wide. 'Real paper?' He looked up at me quizzically 'You know…don't read.'

'It's not words,' I said. 'Open it.'

He hoisted himself onto an elbow and slowly pulled apart the wooden handles. I watched his puzzlement smooth into understanding. Then his face tightened.

'I know it's not very good,' I said quickly 'But see, that is the crossroad at the bottom of the laneway' I pointed to the place on the scroll. And that is old Rehon's pig. See, I've drawn it in the middle of Kellon the moneylender's vegetable garden…' I stopped. Chart had turned his face away

'I know it's not very good,' I said again.

Chart shook his head, pushing his face into his shoulder.

Was he crying? I sat back. Chart did not cry

He touched my hand, a clumsy press of bone-thin fingers against mine, and took a deep, trembling breath.

'I have…something…for you too,' he said. He glanced at the pantry doorway.

'Quick…before…Kuno comes.'

I held out my hand, expecting more bread or cheese. Instead something heavy hit my palm. A coin, covered in grime. I ran my thumb over it and saw a flash of gold: a Tiger coin, more than three months' wages for a freeman. And a certain flogging if discovered.

'Where'd you get it?' I whispered.

'I…not stuck…to this mat,' he said, grinning slyly

'Did you steal it from the master?'

He pulled himself towards me with his elbow, his contorted hand batting the question away

'Heard Kuno…and Irsa talking…last night,' he whispered, his shoulders and throat tense with the strain of lowering his voice. I bent closer until I felt his warm breath against my ear.

'Master… sell you…back to salt farm..if you…not Dragoneye. Sell you…like the boys before.' I flinched back, but Chart raised his body to follow me, frowning with the effort. 'If you not…chosen…you must…run away. To…the islands.' Panting, he dropped back against his mat.

Run away? But I was in bond — I had always belonged to a master. I tightened my grip on the coin. That was not quite true. There had been a time when there was a family and no master. I had memories, more impression than image, of a mother on a beach, a father hunched over nets, and a baby brother beside me in a straw bed.

'What about you?' I said.

Chart snorted. 'Run?'

I held out the coin. 'You should keep it,' I said. 'You and Rilla might need it.'

Chart caught hold of my hand. The muscles in his neck twitched and bulged as he struggled to hold his head still. 'Mother knows. She said…give it…to you.'

I stared at him. Rilla thought I should run away too?

'You still here?' Kuno said, swinging a sack of beans onto the table. Chart and I jumped apart.

'You'd better get moving or you'll keep the master waiting.'

Chart closed my fingers around the coin. 'Goodbye… Eon…Go…with…good fortune.'Amidst the twitches of his head, I saw a nod of encouragement.

I stood up and bowed, low and deep — a bow for an honoured friend. As I straightened, he turned his face away his narrow jaw set.

'Thank you,' I whispered.

He didn't look up but I saw his hand clutch the scroll closer to his chest.

Outside, I stood for a moment in the half-light, steadying my breath. Could I really run away if I was not chosen? Maybe I could look for my parents. But then, they had sold me and I would be returning as a runaway. I doubted I would be welcomed back.

It was only a few minutes to dawn. I still had to pack my belongings. And hide the coin. The warm weight of it pulsed in my hand. Where would it be safe? I pushed my feet back into the leather shoes and ran across the courtyard. Perhaps in my brush and ink box? I paused in the doorway, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. Just inside was a straw travel basket, already packed. Rilla must have done it for me. If I was chosen, my master would have it delivered to me at the Rat Dragon Hall. I opened my hand and

studied the coin. It wasn't big — maybe I could press it into the soft back of my ink block. I scrabbled through the basket and found my writing box. What was I thinking? If I failed and had to run away, I could not come back for my things. The coin had to stay with me. I looked down at my costly silk tunic. Would it fit in the tea pouch? But Chart always said you should never hide two forbidden things together. The hem? I turned the tunic over and studied the fine stitching. If I unpicked a section covered by the embroidered tail of a dragon, I could slide the coin inside and no one would see its outline.

I found my eating knife and slit a stitch, carefully pulling out a section to save the thread.

Nearby, the dawn bell rang. It was nearly time. With shaking hands, I worked the coin into the hem. Would it show? I smoothed the tunic back in place and tried to gauge the effect. It dragged at the cloth, but not enough to be noticed. I lifted the shelf in the clothes press and pulled my needle tube out of the hole I had carved in the wood. Dolana, my only friend at the salt farm, had given it to me before she died of the coughing; a precious gift. My fingers were clumsy as I tried to thread the fine silk into a needle. Finally it slipped through the eye. The hem closed with a few large stitches. Just as I tied off and cut the strand, Irsa appeared at the doorway

'What are you doing?' she demanded.

I let the tunic drop. 'Loose thread.' I closed my fist around the needle, hiding it from view. 'Is the master ready?'

Irsa eyed the tunic suspiciously. 'He says you are to go to the front courtyard.'

I ostentatiously tossed my knife back into the travel basket. 'Thank you.'

She didn't move.

'I know where the front courtyard is, Irsa.'

She crossed her arms. 'You're a sorry creature for the master to pin his hopes on, Eon. But I hope for your sake, and ours, that you succeed.'

She sniffed and left. I waited for a moment, listening to her retreat, then slid the needle back into its case and pushed it back into the hole. It would be hard to leave it behind, but I could not risk packing a woman's tool. Irsa or one of the other maids would no doubt pick through the basket as soon as I left.

The importance of the day pressed in on me. I ground my palms together, trying to rub away the damp anxiety There was no time to eat Chart's bread, but it didn't matter; I was no longer hungry. Perhaps the rat would find it; another offering to the Rat Dragon.

I scanned the room one last time. And suddenly I knew that it was the last time; if I failed, I would run away The knowledge swept over me like a monsoon rain. I turned and stepped into the courtyard, the life-changing decision marked only by the twitching ear of the kitchen cat.

My master was already waiting in the front courtyard. The wood and wicker palanquin he used for official journeys was resting on the lift stones. A hired team of four bearers was standing patiently between the carrying shafts — two at the front, two at the rear — their broad shoulders padded with thick leather. I caught their curious glances as I hurried past.

They were not the only ones; the whole household had gathered in the doorways and windows of the house to watch our departure. I searched for a friendly face. Chart was not there — too far for him to crawl — but Lon raised a hand in salute, and Kuno, to my surprise, ducked his head in a quick bow. Then I saw Rilla standing behind my master, her eyes properly lowered.

She glanced up as I approached, her quick smile giving me courage.

I bowed to my master. He was wearing his court robes: a long midnight blue tunic with silver embroideries girdled by a red sash of intricately pleated silk. His colourless face was framed by a high fluted collar, the graceful curve making his gaunt hollows even more pronounced.

He looked old, and he looked ill.

'Turn,' he said, motioning with an elegant blackwood staff.

I obeyed, the swirl of the tunic making the coin hit the back of my thigh. It was hard not to look down to check the strength of my stitching.

'Good,' he said. He turned to Rilla. 'My cap?'

She carefully placed the red skullcap on his shaved head. He glanced around the silent courtyard then held out his hand, leaning on Rilla's outstretched arm to step up into the palanquin.

'The tribute?' he said, settling himself down on the silk cushioned seat.

Rilla held up a small wooden casket, highly polished and inlaid with sea-pearl. He placed it on his knee then beckoned to me.

I gingerly climbed into the palanquin, smoothing my tunic before sitting next to him on the cushions. The wicker walls seemed very flimsy I pushed against the side next to me. It creaked.

My master studied me for a moment from under hooded eyelids. T can assure you, Eon, it is quite safe.'

'Yes, Master.'

He tapped his staff on the shoulder of the bearer in front of him. 'We shall depart,' he ordered.

As one, the bearers bent and lifted the palanquin. I braced my feet against the floor and grabbed the canopy post as they hoisted us onto their shoulders. So high. Rilla was looking up at me, mouthing the words 'good luck'. I tried to smile, but the ground was too far away and the strange lurching motion made me dizzy. I closed my eyes. When I finally opened them, we were already passing the stone lions at the front gate.

I looked back. Only Rilla was still in the courtyard, her hand raised. Before I could wave, we turned into the side road and she disappeared from my view. Did she know I would miss her?

I faced the front again, warily watching the two lead bearers. They seemed to know what they were doing; perhaps we would not fall to our deaths. My master bent his head down to inc.

'Has the tea been effective?' he asked quietly

'Yes, Master.'

He grunted his satisfaction. And you have perfected the bridging forms?'

I nodded.

He stared ahead, the skin around his eyes tight with strain. 'The Council has grudgingly accepted the Horse Second variation,' he said. 'They did so only because they do not consider you a viable candidate. Ascendant Ido, in particular, was dismissive.'

There was loathing in my master's voice. He had long distrusted the current Rat Dragoneye.

Lord Ido had come to full Dragoneye status early due to the sudden death of his master. Too early, according to some. Now that today started the Year of the Rat, Ido was the Ascendant Dragoneye. For one year his powers would be doubled and he would lead the Dragoneye Council in its task of manipulating the earth energies for the good of the Empire. He would not have made it easy for my master to plead my case.

'When you are chosen, be very careful of Lord Ido.'

'Yes, Master,' I said, then cast a silent apology to the gods for my master's arrogance.

He rubbed at his eyes. 'Ido will persecute you for the very fact that you were my candidate.

You will, of course, have to attend him for training in the dragon arts, but avoid him when you can. He is…' My master paused, searching for the right words. 'Treacherous and unpredictable. You will also be spending a good deal of time with Master Tellon learning the Staminata. He is a good man, but keep your wits about you — he is a keen observer.'

'The Staminata?'

A smile touched my master's bloodless lips. Ahh, the Council would strip me of my Heuris status if they knew I'd spoken to you about the Staminata.' He looked sideways at me.

Although such an indiscretion pales in comparison to what else I have done.' He bent closer. 'The Staminata is the mental and physical training required to become a full Dragoneye. It is intended to help the apprentice bear the energy drains required to commune with the dragon he serves.'

'Is it difficult, Master? The communing?' I asked, sensing that he was, for once, in an expansive mood.

He stared down at the casket on his lap. 'Difficult?' He smiled humourlessly. 'Is it difficult to take the land's life force and twist it to your bidding? To clear energy blocks built of ancient dreads and narrow thinking? To untangle the past, present and future and knit it into another possibility?' He sighed. 'Yes, Eon, it is difficult and painful and exhilarating. And it will kill you.' He looked over at me, his eyes dark. As it has killed me.'

It was said almost as a challenge, but I did not look away from his hollow gaze.

'Better to die in such service,' I said, tightening my grip on the post, 'than to die labouring in a salt farm.'

He blinked at my vehemence. 'There are worse ways to die than choking on salt,' he said softly.

I had to look away then; away from the strange softening of his eyes.

'And the Staminata, Master?' I asked quickly 'Will I be able to do it?'

'It is not like the approach sequence,' he said. 'There will be no swordmaster drilling you endlessly The Staminata does not rely upon brute strength or agility — it is a mixture of meditation and movement. Once you have learned the basic form, it is up to you to develop your mastery and thus your mental and physical stamina.'

'It's what you do in the Moon Garden, isn't it?' I said.

He tilted his head to the side. And how would you know that, Eon?'

I shook my head, unwilling to answer with the truth. Nor would my master want to hear that I knew by intuition — the irrational knowledge only claimed by women.

'Yes, it is what I practise in the Moon Garden,' he said. 'For all the good it does me.' He looked out ahead with a bitter smile. 'Until recently, I did not regret my calling. Now, I find that I resent not having a future.' When he turned back to me, I saw the fierce light in his eyes that I had seen during the cleansing ritual. He reached towards me, as though to stroke my cheek. I flinched and he dropped his hand, his face once more a mask of cool irony.

'That bargain was made a long time ago,' he said, almost to himself.

I drew back into the corner of the seat and brushed my hand over the coin. Would it be enough to buy my way to the islands? Although he had withdrawn to his own corner, I could still feel my master's gaze pressing against me. I pretended to be absorbed by the passing view. We had turned into the main thoroughfare of the city that led to the Dragon Arena. It was just past dawn but the street was already lined with curious onlookers, the house-shop shutters open and the vendors hawking for business. A man noticed our palanquin and yelled, his call rippling along the street until we became the focus of attention. Faces turned up to watch us pass by: excited, sceptical, searching, disdainful. Then a murmur started, the soft words shifting through the crowd like leaves shivering in a breeze: it's the cripple.

I straightened in the seat, my hands in tight fists, and kept my eyes fixed on the banners that billowed above the entrance to the arena. Every so often, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the familiar jab of a ward-evil gesture.

'Does your leg pain you?' my master suddenly asked. In the four years I'd been in his service, he had never asked me about my leg.

'Not a lot,' I said, stumbling over the lie.

He gave a curt nod, his face even more unreadable. 'But it has proved useful.'

The lead bearer called to his team and we stopped outside the gated entrance of the arena. A huge gilded carving of the Mirror

Dragon — the Emperor's symbol — swirled across the lintel. On either side, the heavy supporting pillars were decorated with two ferocious door gods, their carved sword hands rubbed flat by years of people seeking protection. I peered through the crisscrossed slats of the heavy gate, but only saw a dim corridor and the bright flare of sand.

The lead bearer looked back at my master for instructions.

'Follow the wall until we come to the Portal of the Twelve Heavenly Animals,' my master said, pointing to the left.

We moved slowly around the periphery of the arena, passing the bright jade and gold Emperor's Gate through which the Eternal Son of Heaven would make his entrance. The grand boulevard that spanned the distance from gate to the outer precinct of the Imperial Palace was already lined with people, most holding handmade red flags for the new Ascendant and apprentice. Last Ascension Day I stood in that crowd and watched as Amon, the new Pig Dragon apprentice, was showered with flags of good fortune on his way to the Dragon Hall. Would I be walking behind the Emperor's horse in a few hours, a rain of red paper falling on my head?

'Sit still, Eon,' my master ordered.

I leaned back into the seat, turning away from the staring crowd that was collecting around the Emperor's Gate. Ahead, an open palanquin was waiting outside the Portal of the Twelve Heavenly Animals. We stopped a little way behind it and I recognised the delicate shape of Dillon's head and the fat neckless form of Heuris Bellid. Their bearer team slowly lowered the palanquin onto two large lift stones. Dillon climbed out, turning to help his massive master down to the ground. In braver moments, when we were alone, Dillon called him Master Belly I stifled a smile as Bellid adjusted the red pleated sash over his huge gut then waved the palanquin away.

Two gate officials stepped out from the small guardhouse. They were both of similar height and stiff bearing, but one wore

the white robes of mourning to symbolise the waning year, while the other was dressed in shimmering green for the New Year.

'The man in the New Year robes is one of Ido's supporters,' my master said softly. 'He will be a good gauge of how things stand in the Council.'

The officials bowed to Bellid and Dillon, who returned the courtesy. I could not hear the words passed between them, but Bellid gave a carved box to New Year. I glanced down at the casket on my master's knee. Inside was the traditional tribute for the old Dragoneye who was about to make way for his apprentice. Each Heuris paid for the honour of presenting his candidate, softening the blow of lost earnings for the departing lord. But this time there was no old Dragoneye — he had died many years ago, leaving his then-young apprentice, Ido, to serve the Rat Dragon. Who, then, would get the tributes? Lord Ido? I looked at my master's taut face. No wonder he looked pained.

New Year opened Bellid's offering and studied the contents. They must have been adequate for the box was closed and taken away by a guard. Bowing again, the two officials stepped back. Heuris Bellid and Dillon walked through the circular gateway to muted cheers from the crowd.

'Forwards,' my master ordered.

We moved into position in front of the Portal of the Twelve Heavenly Animals. I had always thought it was the most beautiful gate in the city — even more graceful than the huge Gate of Supreme Benevolence, the entrance to the Imperial Palace. The portal was a complete circle and the wood artist had carved the twelve dragon animals around it in order of the cycle of ascension: Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Rooster, Dog and Pig. The Imperial engineers had set the huge carved circle on a system of pulleys and locks so that on the first day of the New Year, Ascension Day, it could be rotated one position, moving the new dragon of ascension to the top of the gateway. The Pig Dragon was still in supremacy, but as

soon as the Rat Dragon chose his new apprentice, the two gate officials would turn the circle to indicate the beginning of the New Year. And the start of a new twelve-year cycle. A most auspicious day Nearby, one of the hawker stalls was already baking cinnamon moon-cakes for the first-day celebrations, the smell creating a phantom mouthful of buttery spice on my tongue. My stomach tightened. I should have eaten the bread.

The bearers lowered our palanquin smoothly onto the lift stones. I quickly climbed out of the cabin, glad to be on the ground again, and handed my master down.

'Wait for my summons after the ceremony' he said, dismissing the team.

Old Year and New Year bowed to us in perfect unison.

'Do you bring one of the twelve who seek to serve the Rat Dragon?' New Year said. His eyes flicked over to me, the glance stinging with hostility. Behind us, the murmuring crowd quietened. I felt as though a thousand disapproving eyes were upon me. A Dragoneye was their only way to buy themselves some good fortune; why was a boy of such obvious ill fortune offering himself as a candidate?

My master and I bowed.

'I, Heuris Brannon, bring one who seeks to serve the Rat Dragon,' my master said.

'Then present your tribute to the Dragoneye who has served. Who now makes way for the new Dragoneye and the new apprentice,' Old Year said. At least his gaze was neutral.

My master opened the lid of the inlaid box. A heavy gold amulet, worked in the shape of a coiled dragon, lay on smooth black velvet. I sucked in a breath. It had to be worth a fortune; enough to keep the household for months. How did my master manage such a gift? He stared at it for a moment then straightened his shoulders.

'I present this tribute to the Dragoneye who makes way for the new; may his strength be restored and his life be long.'

He passed the box to New Year, who shot a strange, challenging look at his colleague. Old Year frowned and shook his head slightly.

New Year snapped the box shut. 'It is acceptable,' he said curtly, passing it to the guard. 'Go through.'

The two officials bowed and stepped back.

'Thank you,' my master said drily.

We walked slowly through the gate and into a long dim passageway Behind us, a huge cheer erupted. For me? I looked back, my heart lifting with the sound. But the gate officials were greeting Heuris Kane and Baret, the crowd favourite. No cheers, then, for the cripple.

Another of Ido's minions,' my master said, following my gaze to Kane. 'But do not fret, Eon.

Ido may be able to bully and buy a following, but even he cannot influence a dragon. And it would seem that his supporters are not inclined to stand against the Council. At least for now.

We shall see what happens when he ascends.'

The passageway sloped downwards, the stone walls chilling the air. Although I wore thin silk, an oily sweat was collecting under my arms and around the waistband of my trousers. My heat had raised the smell of the cleansing herbs again and I longed to scrub off the relentless perfume. Ahead, a half circle of light flickered with passing figures.

We walked out of the cool tunnel into a long chamber lit by lamps fixed along the walls. The smell of sweat and burning sesame oil cloyed the air, and a tense silence amplified the shuffling footsteps of grey-robed officials as they crossed the stone floor. At the far end of the room, the other candidates were kneeling in meditation, their ceremonial swords laid out in front of them, tip to hilt. Three gaps had been left in the row — spaces for Dillon, Baret and me. In the ballot to determine order of appearance, Swordmaster Ranne had drawn me fourth position — an ill number, and probably not drawn by chance. All of the kneeling candidates had their eyes closed, the yellowish light making their faces look like casts of death wax. I shivered, turning to the comfort of the natural light that filtered down a wide ramp in front of me. The way to the bright sands of the arena.

A thin young man, wearing a red feather pinned to his grey robes, stepped up to us. He swept a curious glance over me before bowing low

'Heuris Brannon, Candidate Eon. I am Van, sixth-level official to the Council,' he said softly.

'I am here to assist you today Please come this way to collect your ceremonial swords.'

I swallowed, trying to dredge up some wet in my mouth. I did not want to hold those swords again. A week ago, Ranne had taken us all to the huge armoury of the Council's treasury to be fitted with the precious weapons kept just for ceremonial use. I was the last to be measured and the old armsman, a scar puckering one side of his face from mouth to jowl, took a long time to find the right swords for me. He had stolidly ignored the sighs and shiftings of Ranne and the other candidates, making me hold pair after pair of extravagantly jewelled swords tip down, judging their length and weight against my lopsided body Finally, he frowned into the dim depths of the armoury then disappeared for a few minutes, bringing back a plainer pair of swords. The two hand guards were decorated by a simple ring of alternating moonstones and jade, each translucent gem set in a silver moon crescent.

'Powerful luck-bringers,' he said, brushing a thick thumb over the stones. 'These two haven't been used for a long time — too short and light for most. But they'll do you fine.'

He held them out and I closed my hands around the leather-bound grips. A roiling anger surged through me, blinding me with bursting lights, flooding my mouth with a sour metallic taste. It was a vicious rage, powerful, cold and, at its centre, very, very frightened. Or was that me? Startled, I let go. The swords clattered onto the marble floor.

'Idiot,' Ranne roared, starting towards me with his fist raised.

Calmly, the armsman stepped between us. 'No harm done, Swordmaster. No harm done,' he said, scooping up the swords. He turned a thoughtful gaze on me as he deftly racked them in a large wooden stand. 'They must have very old energy,' he said cryptically.

I opened my mouth to say I didn't want them, but he had already bowed and retreated into the shadows of his domain.

Afterwards, on the walk back to the school, I wondered who could have put such violent feeling into the steel of swords. It was part of the Dragoneye art to imbue physical items with the capacity to absorb or deflect energy Some items absorbed the good energy that surrounded us — the Lin Hua — and some deflected the bad energy — the Gan Hua — so that the flow of good fortune could be enhanced and directed. But I had never heard of rage being woven into the fabric of a thing. It must have been done by a powerful Dragoneye. Or perhaps it was done by accident. However it had happened, I was reluctant to touch the swords again.

I followed my master and Van to an arched doorway set near the ramp. The squat figure of Heuris Bellid blocked the threshold for a moment then moved awkwardly into the main chamber. Dillon trailed behind him holding two large swords. Bluish circles ringed his eyes, and his face was stark with the pallor of hunger. Did I look as strained? I certainly felt as though a touch would snap me like a winter-dead branch.

'Is it true? You're not doing the Mirror Dragon?' he asked as we passed each other.

I nodded and saw something flicker across his pinched face.

Relief.

I stared after him, a dry ache closing my throat; the relief was not for me, it was for himself. I was no longer a real rival for the Rat Dragon's attentions.

I could not blame him. Fear made misers of us all.

The arena armoury was a small cave-like room dominated by a wooden stand built for twenty-four swords, the rests cushioned with fine leather. Only two pairs were still racked — mine and Baret's. The old armsman standing beside it was the same who had fitted me. He promptly slid out my swords and held the hilts up to me.

'Go on then, boy,' he said, his familiarity prompting a disapproving huff from Van.

I gritted my teeth as my hands closed around the grips again. A faint taste of metal, but no rage. Instead, there was another kind of power, lying in wait like that expectant stillness between breaths.

'Not so bad this time, hey?' the armsman asked.

'How did you know?' I whispered.

He smiled, his skin stretching white around the scar. A good sword is an extension of its master.'

Armsman, return to your post,' Van said, bristling at the breach of protocol. 'Candidate Eon, please come this way'

I wanted to ask the old man who had used the swords before me, but Van was herding me out of the small chamber. I tucked the blades, blunt edge up, under my arms and followed my master.

Outside, Heuris Kane and Baret were waiting to enter. Baret was leaning against the wall, his athletic body and smooth patrician face a study in arrogance. My master bowed, intent on passing, but was stopped by Kane's hand on his arm.

'Brannon,' Kane said, his voice low, 'I would speak with you.' I Ie flicked his fingers at Van who quickly moved away

'Yes, Heuris Kane?' my master said, his dislike plain in his stiff formality Baret smirked at me with his arms crossed, each half-hidden hand curled into a ward-evil.

'I have heard Eon will be using an ancient variation of the sequence today' Kane said, staring down at me until 1 shifted

under his gaze; he blinked too often and in a strange pattern of three.

My master inclined his head. 'You have heard correctly. It is a variation from the fourth Chronicle of Detra.'

A sly smile pursed Kane's thin lips. 'I am sure your records are impeccable on the matter.' His small eyes blinked rapidly, his gaze darting down to my bad leg. 'Of course, one wonders how changing the sequence that honours both the Emperor and the lost dragon will be received.'

'The Council has verified the precedent,' my master said quickly.

Kane waved a dismissive hand. 'So I have heard. But then, it is not the Council who has the final say in this matter, is it?' He bowed. 'I wish you and Eon good fortune.' He continued into the armoury

As Baret passed me, I heard him whisper, 'You don't have a chance, Eon-jah. You are as weak as a girl.'

He was inside the armoury before I made sense of his words. There was no true knowledge in the jeer, but it hit home, splitting my tight kernel of control. My world tipped and spun.

Van came hurrying towards us. He said something, but I heard no meaning in the sounds. I stared over at the row of kneeling boys. They were the real candidates; I was a girl, a cripple, an abomination. What was I doing? What madness was in my master? How could he think we would succeed? He was wrong — I could not do it. We had to stop. We had to get away Before we were discovered. Before we were killed.

I grasped at his robes, my sword tips tangling in the silk.

'Master, we must —'

His hand closed on my shoulder. Bone and sinew ground together, radiating agony.

'I will say goodbye now, Eon,' my master said, his voice an order. His thumb dug into the soft hollow of my shoulder, squeezing away breath and movement. 'Our fortunes lie with you now' He shook me slightly, his eyes locked on mine. 'Do you understand?'

I nodded. The edges of the room faded into a grey haze.

'Get in line.'

He pushed me away, the sudden release making me stagger. There was no choice. No going back. We had to see this through.

I made my way around the row of kneeling candidates. All of them with their eyes closed, praying to serve the Rat Dragon. I would pray for something different: a chance to escape. I placed my swords on the stone floor in front of my position. Number four: the number of death. Was it an omen? Clumsily, I settled onto my knees. The hard edge of the hidden coin dug into the back of my thigh, the pain joining the hot pulsing in my hip and shoulder. I felt my master's gaze still on me, but I did not look up. There was nothing in his face that I wanted to see.