Dragonkeeper 2: Garden of the Purple Dragon (24 page)

Her mother had the plump, fragrant skin of a
wealthy woman, but Ping could read her history in the lines on her face and the sorrow behind her eyes. The unexpected arrival of her daughter had ripped open a place inside her that she’d kept closed for years. If Ping told her the truth, it would only make her unhappy. Ping didn’t want that.

Master Chang took hold of the little boy’s hand and pulled him out from the protection of his mother’s gown.

“This is your second brother, Liang,” he said.

“Hello,” Ping said.

The little boy was too shy to speak. He peeked at Ping and then looked down at the floor.

Ping’s mother and stepfather asked her many questions about her life. She described the palace at Huangling (even though she’d only seen it in the dark, on the occasions she’d snuck in at night to explore). She spoke about the old Emperor (though she’d only met him once and had been under arrest at the time). She told them about the lovely Garden of the Purple Dragon. She proudly told them of her friendship with the young Emperor.

“What exactly are your duties, Ping?” her stepfather asked.

“I was the Imperial Dragonkeeper,” she answered. Even though she’d lost the position, she couldn’t stop a little bit of pride creeping into her voice.

Mei giggled. “Dragonkeeper? There’s no such thing
as dragons. Everyone knows that.”

In that comfortable house, there was no hunger or hardship, and a busy town bustled outside the doors. Dragons didn’t seem to have a place there. Ping had no desire to change their minds. It was better this way. She wouldn’t have to tell them the whole heartbreaking story.

“Dragonkeeper is the title the position has had since ancient times,” Ping said. “I was in charge of the care of some of the imperial animals.” That wasn’t too far from the truth. “I supervised their feeding and training.”

She told them about the Emperor’s plan to turn the Tiger Forest into a reserve for wild animals from all over the Empire.

The colour had returned to Ping’s mother’s face. After hearing about the palace and her daughter’s comfortable life at Ming Yang Lodge, her smile returned.

“That’s not at all what I expected you to be doing,” said her mother. “I thought you’d be a lady’s companion or an embroiderer.”

“But you talk about it as if it’s in the past,” Master Chang said.

“Yes,” Ping replied. “I no longer have the position.”

Now that she had found them, Ping wanted to stay with her family. Her previous life had evaporated like water in summer sun. She hoped she could have a new life with them. Even if they didn’t want the burden of another daughter, she could stay as a servant. She could
work in the fields. Anything as long as she could be with them. In this house, she could be happy. She could forget about her failure as a Dragonkeeper.

The little boy, Liang, came over to the couch. He had seen something move next to Ping. He lifted the blanket that was covering her, and Hua’s head popped out.

Mei screamed. The rat’s bright blue eyes blinked as he suddenly found himself in the light.

“He won’t hurt you,” Ping assured the little boy. “He’s very tame and well behaved,” she added for the benefit of her mother who was staring at the rat with distaste.

“I’ve never heard of anyone keeping a rat as a pet,” her mother said.

Master Chang shook his head again. “They certainly breed rats big in imperial palaces,” he said as he went out to tend to his oxen.

Ping’s mother and stepsister went to help prepare the evening meal. Ping looked from the doorway at the rest of her family’s home. She was on the second storey of a large house. Stairs led down to a neat courtyard that had buildings on all sides. Ping could see three fat pigs in a pigsty and a coop full of chickens. Delicious smells were coming from the kitchen on one side of the courtyard. It was everything a home should be.

Liang reached out to pat Hua. His small fingers nestled in the rat’s bluish fur.

“He’s very soft.” It was the first time Ping had heard
the boy speak. He had a sweet voice.

Liang stroked Hua and tickled him behind his ears. He had no fear of the rat. Ping felt a rush of love for her little half-brother.

“Would you like to hold him?” Ping asked.

He nodded. Ping placed Hua in the boy’s lap.

“Have you really seen a dragon?” Liang said.

Ping glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one else could hear. She smiled down at the boy.

“Yes. I had two dragons in my care,” she whispered. “One was a big dragon. He was very wise and brave, but he was also very old. He flew away to the Isle of the Blest. The other was a baby dragon. When he was happy, he made sounds like someone playing a pretty tune on a flute. Sometimes he was very naughty. His name was Kai.”

That was the best way to think about the little dragon, she decided. He was in the past. He didn’t exist in her new life.

“I don’t have any dragons anymore though,’ she said sadly.

“Were the dragons blue like the ones painted on our best bowls?” the boy asked.

“There might be blue dragons somewhere in the Empire, but not my dragons. Kai was purple. The old dragon was green.”

Ping fished in her silk pouch and pulled out the dragon’s scale.

“This is one of the old dragon’s scales.” She ran her fingers over the rough scale.

“And this,” she found the dragon stone shard, “is part of the egg that the baby dragon hatched from.”

“Can I touch it?” Liang asked.

Ping put the shard of dragon stone in the boy’s outstretched hands. He smiled. He had a tooth missing.

The evening meal was served in the room where Ping had woken up. It was the best room, the one where the family received guests, not where they normally ate. The table was set with white bowls covered in blue dragon designs. The maid served three dishes, each made from grain and vegetables grown in Master Chang’s fields.

Ping listened to the stories of their day—Mei had torn her favourite gown, little Liang had found a lizard in the courtyard, Master Chang had given a sack of grain to a family whose father was ill.

“I had an interesting day,” said Ping’s mother. “I found my long-lost daughter.”

Everyone smiled—even Mei.

After the meal, Ping’s mother bathed the wound on Ping’s head with a soothing lotion.

“It’s healing well,” she said.

“You must stay as long as you like, Ping,” said Master Chang. “If you don’t mind sharing a mattress with your stepsister.”

“I’m not having a rat in my room!” Mei said, folding her arms crossly.

“Perhaps you can put your rat in the barn,” suggested Master Chang.

When the two girls were alone Ping tried to talk to Mei, but she wasn’t in the mood for conversation. The only time she spoke was to point out that her hair combs were only made of ebony, not silver. Then she lay down and turned to face the wall.

Ping was sleeping under the same roof as her family for the first time since she was a small child. She felt safe and warm. All her burdens had been lifted from her shoulders. She would stay at her mother’s side. She would win over her stepsister and be her friend. She would tell little Liang stories and he would grow to love her. All these things would come to pass, she was sure of it.

She took the dragon scale out of her pouch again and felt its rough texture. She lifted it to her nose to catch its distinctive smell. She held it up in the moonlight and its dull green colour became brighter. It was a souvenir of her past life. Nothing more.

Ping could see the moon through the trees. The full moon. Dark tree branches crisscrossed its face, so that it looked as if it had been sliced into irregular pieces. One of the pieces broke off. That’s a shame, Ping thought. The moon is broken. It will never be whole again. The slice of moon was falling from the sky. It was getting larger. Ping ran through the trees towards it. She wanted to know where it landed. She wanted to look at a piece of the moon up close. She wanted to see it more than anything.

She ran until she came out of the trees into a clearing. The bright light was just above her. It wasn’t a slice of the moon at all. It was a dragon. Her dragon.

“Danzi, I haven’t seen you for such a long time.”

The anxious lose their guiding thread. The pure and tranquil see harm and are not frightened
.

The dragon swooped low and Ping grabbed one of his paws as he soared up into the dark sky again. Her feet left the ground. The dragon flapped up into the dark night sky. She looked at the shining dragon shape above her. Every scale was glowing like green jade in lamplight. Danzi flapped higher and higher. The darkened world shrank beneath her with amazing speed. She could see mountain slopes below, outlined faintly in the moonlight. It looked like a ghost world.

A snaking stream was the only thing that wasn’t sleeping. Its serpentine windings were lit by tiny flakes of moonlight as it hurried along its way. Ping had felt like that stream. Always rushing, always striving, never being able to rest, but somehow always staying in the same place.

“I can only really rest when I’m up here with you, Danzi,” Ping said. “Up here I don’t have to walk, I don’t have to think, but I fly because of you.”

Those who do not leave their beds are not always safe. Do not fear the dangers of the path
.

Ping’s heart soared. But only for a moment. Her fingers stiffened with cold. She felt her grip on the
dragon’s paw loosen. The moon went behind a cloud. The dragon shape disappeared, as if someone had blown out a candle. A rush of icy air told her she was falling, falling, falling.

Ping woke from the dream with a start. The dragon scale was still in her hand. Danzi’s dream words had never made any sense before. They were just as puzzling as they had been when he was there in the flesh, but this time his meaning was clear. She’d chosen safety instead of the path that was her destiny. Like a coward she’d wanted to hide in the comfort of her family’s home.

She couldn’t stay with her family. Jun wasn’t the Dragonkeeper—she was. Danzi had said so. Of all the people in the Empire and beyond, the old dragon had chosen her to take care of his only heir. She wasn’t ready to give up that role yet. Her desire to be with her family was strong, but not as strong as her need to care for Kai.

She had almost made the same mistake as her mother—the one thing that Ping had blamed her for all the time she’d lived at Huangling. Her mother had listened to someone else’s advice instead of listening to her heart. She had given over her only daughter to the care of a stranger. Ping had almost done the same thing. Dong Fang Suo had decided that she was no longer the Dragonkeeper, and she had let him take Kai away from her. The Imperial Magician was wrong. She would have
to tell Liu Che. Convince him that she was the true Dragonkeeper.

Ping ate breakfast with her family. She imagined eating with them every morning—enjoying her mother’s steaming buns, hearing her stepfather’s plans and Mei’s complaints, helping Liang put on his socks. This comfortable family life wasn’t her destiny though. Heaven had chosen a different path for her.

“I’ll be leaving after breakfast,” she said.

“You’re not going already?” said her mother.

“Stay longer,” said Master Chang. “It’s not the season for travelling.”

She reached out and touched her mother’s hand. “It’s been my greatest wish to find you. I would love to stay, but I have to return to my duties.”

“I thought you said you’d lost the position,” Mei said.

“The bump on my head made my memory play tricks on me,” Ping said. “I was just having a holiday. I have to return to Ming Yang Lodge.”

Ping didn’t tie her hair up in a knot like Lady An had taught her. Instead she tied it back in a plait.

“It’s more suitable for travelling,” she explained and gave the silver hair comb to Mei. “It used to belong to Princess Yangxin. I’d like you to have it.”

She gave the jar of hair oil to her mother and her one gold coin to Master Chang. He didn’t want to take it.
She knew that the family didn’t need more money, but she had nothing else to offer them.

“It won’t make up for all that I would have sent you, if I’d known where you were,” she said. “But it’s all I have with me.”

She stood outside her family’s house with her bag over her shoulder. Her mother looked puzzled by her daughter’s sudden decision to leave.

“We thought you’d stay for a few days at least,” said Master Chang.

“I wish I could stay forever,” Ping said.

She wanted to say more, but she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to keep back the tears that were threatening to spill down her face.

Her mother took her hand.

“Mothers know their daughters will leave from the day they are born.” Her eyes were filled with tears as well. “You just left a little earlier than most. I’m proud of you, Ping. You bring honour to your father’s family.”

Ping hugged her mother tightly. Master Chang told her she was welcome in his house any time. Mei allowed Ping to hug her. Ping bent down and kissed Liang on the cheek.

“Kai would like you,” she whispered.

Master Chang gave Ping a bag of dried fruit and nuts for her journey. He told her she only had to walk to the next garrison along the imperial road. From there
she would be able to get a carriage back to Ming Yang Lodge.

Ping collected Hua from the barn and then waved as she walked away from her family.

“I’ll come back and visit you when I can,” she called back to them, but she had a feeling she never would.

She felt Hua’s warmth inside the folds of her gown. She was glad she wasn’t travelling entirely alone.

The next carriage wasn’t due to leave for another four days. Ping couldn’t wait. She would have to walk back to Ming Yang Lodge. Though every step took her further away from her family, it also took her closer to Kai. She searched for the thread that connected her to Kai, but it eluded her.