Eon: Dragoneye Reborn

CHAPTER 14

Poison.

I knew it, the Emperor knew it, and from the whispers that followed me as I performed the death duties during the nine formal days of mourning, the whole court knew it too. Lord Tyron called for an investigation, but there was no evidence, or none that led anywhere, and so the official reason for my master's death was the Dragoneye's curse — the crippling drain of Hua. I had no doubt who was behind it all, but why had Lord Ido spared me? I could only think of one reason: I was more useful alive and without protection than I was dead.

My master had no family left to prepare his tomb, burn the effigies and pay the Beseechers to chant him into the spirit world. By default, I became his official mourner. Lady Dela patiently explained the death rituals for a lord, gently guiding me through my responsibilities while Ryko stood guard, his stoic silence offering a different kind of support.

For the first two days, I had to receive the relentless queues of lesser courtiers and dignitaries offering their small red packets of mourning money. All through their careful speeches of condolence

and polite bowls of tea, one question circled interminably in my mind: how was I going to survive without my master? He had been as much the creator of Lord Eon as 1 was. Now there was only me.

In between the formal visits, I either prayed at my altar, or lay on my huge carved bed staring numbly at the folio and its indecipherable text. My master was gone and with him my chance to learn the book's secrets. I should have shown it to him. I should have told him about my dragon's name. I should have told him so many things. But I had left it all too late.

Every now and again, Rilla came in with food or the ghost-maker's tea, urging me in a soft voice to eat and drink. We had an official taster now, unofficially provided by the Emperor, but I was still afraid. Each morning it took all of my courage to drink the tea, and food caught in my throat and made me gag. I left the Sun drug in its pouch, untouched. Who knew what was in it? Or what effect it might have on me?

Early on the third day — the Day of Tomb Preparation — Rilla announced Lady Dela.

'She's waiting in the reception room with an Imperial messenger,' Rilla said, hurrying over to the bed and stripping the silk cover off me.

I looked up from the folio; I could not even rouse myself to hide it.

Another gift?'

Since the procession, the Heavenly Master had been too ill to venture out of his rooms.

Nevertheless, he had sent a gift each day of mourning — a great mark of Imperial favour.

Yesterday, the Day of Herbs and Cloth, a precious pot of unguent and fine linen was delivered for the preparation and wrapping of my master's body

'1 don't think so,' Rilla said. She clicked her tongue. 'Did you sleep in your tunic?'

I closed the folio and held out my right arm, watching as the black pearls wrapped the book tightly against me. Rilla gasped

and stepped back from their slithering clatter — I'd forgotten she had never seen them move before.

'It's all right,' I said. 'They won't hurt you.'

I had thought the pearls might tell me something about the Mirror Dragon or hold the key to the strange text. But for all their peculiar magic, they were only bindings. I climbed off the bed and stood still as Rilla quickly brushed and twitched my robes into order, avoiding the right sleeve where the folio nestled underneath the thick white cloth.

'After you see Lady Dela, it has been arranged for you to prepare his…the tomb.' I heard her voice catch on the last, but couldn't push a way out of my own dry grief to offer her any solace.

As I entered the shuttered reception room, Lady Dela sank into a low bow. She was not painting her skin as a mark of respect, and that, along with her severe white robe, emphasised her swarthy colouring and sharp angles. Behind her, Ryko bobbed in a quick duty bow. Even through my listlessness, I could sense a strange excitement in them. An Imperial messenger shuffled forwards on his knees and offered me a scroll.

'By command of his Imperial Highness.' He lowered himself three times into the delivery kowtows of an Imperial edict, his forehead touching the straw matting.

I broke the seal with my thumb and unrolled the message. The Heavenly Master, concerned for my welfare after the death of Lord Brannon, had ordered Lady Dela to become my official chaperone and Ryko to take charge of my personal safety with the command of a small detachment of guards.

I looked up at them and forced a smile to my lips. I was glad to have them with me, but I felt it as one feels a light blow through armour; muffled by thick layers of protection. Even as they spoke about the arrangements, I let myself sink back into the comfort of numbness.

The next morning, Prince Kygo arrived, unannounced and with only two guards shadowing him. He was dressed in plain white mourning clothes with no royal adornment. The gash on his left cheekbone was closing, but the dark bruise was still vivid.

'Lord Eon,' he said and gestured for me to rise from my kowtow, 'I do not come as your overlord but as your friend.'

Dully, I stood, waiting for him to speak. He looked back at his guards and jerked his head, sending them to the doorway out of earshot.

'I would be honoured if you would allow me to stand as second mourner for Lord Brannon,'

he said.

The surprise of his words finally penetrated my apathy The second mourner carried the offerings to the gods and organised the effigies. It was a position of service — duties that were below a prince.

'Your Highness…' I stopped, not sure what to say

He gripped my shoulder. 'My father sickens more every day' he said softly 'It is time I stepped out of the harem for good. Remember our agreement, my friend?'

Mutual survival.

I straightened under the weight of his hand. 'My master said it would not be long now. They will make their move.'

He nodded. 'You are the only thing that stands in the way of Ido's control of the Council.' His grip tightened. SAllow me to stand by your side as an ally at Lord Brannon's passing.'

'It would be my honour, Your Highness,' I said and bowed.

We smiled at one another; a grim acknowledgement that it may be too little, too late. The silent understanding was as brief as a heartbeat, but for that one bright moment I did not feel quite so alone.

Two days later, on the Day of Honouring, the Dragoneyes came, led by Lord Ido. Ryko stood silently behind me as they entered

the reception room, his solid presence like another backbone holding me up.

The Dragoneyes all wore white robes and brought thick packets of mourning money as was custom, but I sensed there was also another purpose in the visit. As each man bowed to me, I studied his face. My master's allies were all tense; his enemies shifting with impatience. I met Lord Tyron's eyes as he straightened from his courtesy and they held a warning — but of what? I followed his gaze to a stranger at the back of the group. The man bowed from where he stood, offering murmured condolences. There was something familiar about the way he blinked — in a pattern of three — but I could not place him.

Lord Ido stepped forwards from the loose semicircle of white-robed men. He smiled at me — a cold curve of his lips that matched the calculation in his eyes. We both knew he had killed my master.

'My dear Lord Eon, we are all shocked by the passing of Lord Brannon,' he said softly. His false sympathy made my gut tighten. 'We all grieve with you in the loss of your mentor and offer you, our youngest brother, support during this time of mourning.'

For the first time since my master's death, I felt something in my core. Hate. It burned through me like a fireball, laying waste to the numbness and despair. I quickly looked down, in case Ido saw his own death in my eyes.

'With that in mind,' Ido continued, 'the Council has petitioned Heuris Kane to step into the position of proxy lord. He will continue Lord Brannon's work and relieve you of your Council duties so that you can study the dragon arts. As Lord Brannon wished.'

Heuris Kane — now I knew the stranger. He was Baret's master and one of Ido's minions. As the Prince had predicted, Ido was making his next move to control the Council. This was the reason my master was dead. This was the reason my world was hollow. I closed my eyes, hearing my master's last words.

Stop him.

But I was not even a proper Dragoneye. How could I go against this man? He was too powerful. Too ruthless.

Stop him.

The pearls tightened their grip around my arm as though rallying my courage. No one else could stop Ido. I had to try For the Emperor and the Prince. And for my master. I curled my hands into fists.

'No.'

As soon as I said it, Ryko moved closer, hovering protectively behind me.

Ido stiffened. 'What?'

Tyron's head snapped up. I met his startled gaze, silently pleading for his help. He licked his lips and nodded.

'Of course, I thank Heuris Kane for his concern for my welfare,' I said, turning towards the man and bowing, 'but I wish to take my position on the Council.'

Kane blinked rapidly at me then looked at Ido for guidance.

'This is not a choice, Lord Eon,' Ido snarled. 'This is what is best for the Council.'

'"Vbu are wrong, Lord Ido,' Tyron said. He stepped out of the semicircle. 'If Lord Eon does not wish to stand aside, then he has every right to prove himself capable of holding his position.'

Prove myself? What did that mean?

'Lord Tyron is correct,' Silvo said. 'A Dragoneye can only be removed from the Council if all other members agree that he is not competent. I, for one, am not convinced that is the case.'

'Nor I,' Dram said. He smiled encouragingly at me. A few other voices murmured agreement.

Ido rounded on the Horse Dragoneye. 'What would you know about competence?' He glared around the semicircle.

'Lord Ido has a valid point,' Elgon drawled. The Tiger Dragoneye held up his hand to quieten the rise of voices. 'We

don't know if Lord Eon will be able to cope with Council duties. I propose we have a test to prove whether or not he is capable.'

A test? I dug my nails into my palm. If it was a demonstration of power, everything would be lost.

'What did you have in mind?' Tyron asked.

Elgon bowed to Ido. 'I defer to our respected leader.'

Ido cocked his head to one side. 'Tyron, I believe your province has made their annual request to the Council to control the King Monsoon rains and protect their crops?'

Tyron nodded, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

Ido smiled. 'Lord Eon can show us his competence by leading that effort. After all, the position he steps into is that of Co-Ascendant and co-leader.'

'That's too much,' Dram protested. 'The boy hasn't had any training.'

'My point exactly,' Ido said smoothly

Tyron glanced across at me. It was a huge risk for him as well as for me. If something went wrong, the King Monsoon would flood the area and he would lose a year's income from the devastated crops. He squared his shoulders.

'I have every confidence in Lord Eon,' Tyron said.

Ido turned to me, his face avid. He knew I had no chance. 'Do you agree to this test?'

All eyes were on me, the tension holding everyone still. I did not even know how to call my dragon, let alone how to control the largest dump of monsoon rains in the season. But there was no choice. I was the only thing standing between a Council in the control of Ido and one that still served the Emperor and the land.

'Yes,' I said, feeling my voice crack on the word.

Ido smiled triumphantly. 'Then we will all wait for Lord Tyron's call to travel to his province.'

T gather you will have no objection to me taking over Lord Eon's training before that time,'

Tyron said stiffly.

Ido shrugged. 'None whatsoever.'

The monsoon season always started in the Daikiko Province; this year the weather-watchers had predicted the King Monsoon would hit the coast in the next week or so. Ido knew I could not cram twelve years of study and practice into less than a week.

Although,' he continued with a soft sigh, 'it would not be seemly for Lord Eon to train during the nine days of mourning.'

Tyron's face darkened. 'I was not even considering it,' he said tightly He glanced across at me, the heavy dismay on his face mirroring my own. With four days of mourning left, we may not even have a chance to begin the training.

'If you please, my lord,' Rilla said, kneeling at the doorway 'Shall I serve the tea?'

I nodded, unable to speak. Ido had manoeuvred me neatly into his trap. Now all he had to do was wait for it to spring.

The tinny crash of cymbals and the thump of drums matched the rhythm of my steps as I followed my master's body towards the burial ground. Four stocky men carried him on a flat litter laden with white orchids, their movements perfectly coordinated. Lady Dela had hired them, along with the chanting Beseechers and the other trappings needed to bury an important man. She, of course, was not present: no women were permitted to attend the burial of a former Dragoneye. If I'd had any lightness left in me, I would have laughed at the irony.

The Prince walked beside me, matching my uneven strides. He wore the black robes of the second mourner — the Gan Hua to my white-robed Lin Hua — and carried the silver tray of offerings and ceramic tomb guardians. It must have been heavy, but he did not seem troubled by the burden. An image of him sparring flashed into my mind, the memory of his lean muscular strength and royal bearing bringing heat to my face. I glanced across at him, afraid he had seen it, but he was concentrating on balancing the tray. Behind us, Ryko and two Imperial guards

formed a protective line, the jangle of their armour and swords creating another rhythm in the march.

I wiped sweat from my top lip. The morning was already oppressive — the kind of thick humidity that heralded the monsoon. Was it the same in Daikiko? Yesterday, Lord Tyron had sent a formal message to all the Dragoneyes that the weather-watchers in his province now predicted the King Monsoon would come in only six days. Two days after the official mourning period ended. A spiralling fear rushed up through me. Two days of instruction would be almost useless, especially since they would also be spent travelling to the province.

Tyron, however, was adamant about keeping to the agreement; he would not even visit me or accept a messenger in case it gave Ido an opportunity to cry foul about the test. Both he and Ido were somewhere behind us, amongst the other Dragoneyes. I breathed deeply, pressing the panic into a small hard knot at the bottom of my stomach. This was my master's Passing Day. It would dishonour him if I faltered in my duties.

Ahead, the Tiger Dragoneye tombs shimmered through the heat rising from the paved road. A smoky herb fragrance trailed behind the tiny braziers that the Beseechers carried at the head of the procession. As we approached the double gate, the lead litter-bearer called a sharp halt.

The procession and music stopped, the sudden silence as stifling and heavy as the humidity The entrance to the ground was guarded by two large stone statues: on the left was Shola, the squat death goddess, and on the right, an elegantly coiled Tiger Dragon. I stood staring at them, suddenly unable to move. When we went through these gates, even my master's body would be gone from me. Behind us the long line of mourners began to murmur restlessly.

'Lord Eon?' the Prince whispered. 'It is time for us to approach the gate.'

I nodded, but I still couldn't move; the world had contracted into a bubble of heat and deafening heartbeat. Tf 1 stepped closer,

surely my heart would explode. I felt the Prince place my hand on his arm. Slowly, he guided me towards the statues, his soft whispers of encouragement quietening the thunderous beat in my ears.

I stopped in front of the gate, dragging against his weight. We could not go in. We were not ready

'No! We haven't had time to practise the entreaties,' I said. 'How can we beseech the gods without the proper entreaties?'

'Lord Eon, look at me.' I met the Prince's sympathetic gaze. 'It's all right. We know them.

Remember? Lady Dela taught us. We know them.'

"Yes, I remembered; we had sat for an hour with Lady Dela, saying the words together, our voices blending into one. It had been a warm respite from the cold formality of the duty visits and rituals.

Are you ready now?' he asked.

I was not. I would never be, but I could not fail my master. Or the Prince.

'Yes.'

We both took a deep breath and bowed our heads.

'Shola, goddess of dark and death, hear our petition on behalf of Lord Brannon,' we chorused, the Prince's deeper tones covering the breaks in my voice.

It was my turn now. I took a step closer to the statue and looked up into the frowning face of Shola. 'Here comes one into your realm,' I said. Accept these offerings and allow him to journey onwards unhindered.'

The Prince passed me a red packet of symbolic money: a payment to Shola's spirit officials, who could ease or hinder my master's journey I placed it at the statue's feet, then poured wine into a stone cup cradled in her clawed hand. Let him pass, I silently pleaded.

We crossed over to the dragon. It was a faithful likeness; whoever had carved it must have worked closely with a Tiger I)ragoneye.

'Tiger Dragon, Keeper of Courage,' we said, 'hear our petition on behalf of Lord Brannon.'

I stepped closer to the statue, its stone fang hanging just above my head. 'One who once served you now passes into the land of the spirits,' I said. Accept these offerings and escort him to his ancestors with the honour that he deserves.'

I placed a brass chain studded with paste emeralds between the stone talons and poured the last of the wine into a bowl made of green marble. Then I closed my eyes, breathing in the thick warm air, and felt along my Hua, seeking a way past the fog of grief into my mind-sight.

All 1 wanted was a glimpse of the Tiger Dragon — to make sure he knew my master was here and waiting to pass. I opened my eyes, feeling the strange twisting shift of sight, and saw the dragons. All of them, in a ring around the burial ground, each at his compass point. The green Tiger Dragon was more vibrant than the others, his head thrown back, his long throat swelling in a mournful keen. It was not a sound that any human could hear, but I felt the vibration of it like the shivering of the earth. But my dragon, the Mirror Dragon, was hardly visible. A mere outline, smudged and blurred by a heavy veil of mist. I gasped and shook my head, breaking my link. He was even fainter than before. Why was he fading away from me?

The folio pearls rippled against my arm, as if in sympathy.

Lord Elgon stepped out from his position in the procession and approached us. As incumbent Tiger Dragoneye, he was the keeper of the burial ground. He bowed to each statue and then to us, offering me a gentle smile that transformed his shovel face.

'For all of my differences with Lord Brannon,' he said softly, 'he served as Tiger Dragoneye with great honour. I was most fortunate to be his apprentice.'

He bowed again and opened the gates. For some reason — perhaps Elgon's unexpected kindness — all my sorrow suddenly broke out of its tight bindings. My own keen rose into my throat. I forced it back and blinked away the sting of tears. The Prince leaned towards me and the mix of herbs, sweat and smoke on his skin was strangely comforting.

'We are nearly there,' he whispered. 'You are doing well.'

Behind us, the Beseechers began the soft entrance chants. With head down to hide my eyes, I walked beside the Prince to our place at the head of the mourners, my lower lip clamped between my teeth until I tasted blood.

Throughout the lengthy chants and effigy-burning beside my master's tomb, I fought a grim battle against the grief that threatened to overwhelm me. I had to hold it in. A lord would not fall to his knees and weep like a woman. A lord would not scream out his grief and seek the comfort of his royal friend's arms. A lord would stoically watch the death ceremonies and do his duty And that was what I did. Even when my master's body was pushed into the long tunnel of the tomb and the sealing rock was hammered into place, I kept my desolation behind a stiff mask of control. Throughout the entombment, Lord Ido stood across from me and I saw that his face was as fixed as my own. But somehow I doubted his mask was disguising grief.

More likely it was disguising triumph.

At last the ceremony ended. I stood mutely as the mourners filed past and bowed to the tomb, until I finally stood alone in front of the elegant marble marker. I knew the Prince and Ryko waited respectfully a few lengths behind me. Waiting for me to say my last goodbye. But all that tight control had worked; I could not find anything to give. No final prayer, no tears, no farewell. My master had left me and I was empty. Yet, as I turned away from his grave, I felt something stir within me.

It took a moment to recognise it.

Anger.