Alison Goodman - Eon - Dragoneye Reborn

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