Was that possible? I had never heard of such a thing. But then I still knew very little about the ways of the dragons. Perhaps he was just waiting for me to merge into mind-sight. Waiting to give me his name. I set the bowl down and propped myself back against the headboard.
Breathing deeply I tried to relax my body
Tried to narrow my mind's-eye and concentrate on the energy world. But my muscles twitched, my hip ached and my mind skittered between hope and fear. It was like trying to find rest on a bed of thorns.
The last time I had seen the red dragon was in the warm quiet of the bathing room. Maybe another bath would help me see him again.
Rilla sloshed a bucketful of water over my shoulders.
'They say taking too many baths can weaken the body' she said caustically I shifted impatiently on the stool, pleating the loincloth between my fingers. 'I'll go and soak now.'
'But I haven't done your arms and legs.'
'They're not dirty'
Ignoring the stiffness in my hip, I shuffled across the tiles to the bath and sloshed down the steps, wading quickly through the warm water to the sitting ledge. Rilla crossed her arms, watching me with a frown.
'Is everything all right?'
I found the seat and settled back, leaning my head against the edge as I had done yesterday
'You can go now,' I said.
She blinked at the dismissal. 'Well, I'll be back on the half bell, then,' she said, picking up the buckets. 'Otherwise you'll be late for the Prince.' At the door, she looked back at me. Are you sure you're all right?'
I nodded, closing my eyes until I heard the click of the latch.
With a deep sigh, I lowered myself further into the water until it lapped around my chin. The warmth was working its way into my bones. I glanced around the edge of the bath: no sign of the dragons. The steam was leaving a taste of ginger on my tongue that cut through the bitter residue of the ghost-maker's tea. I stared at the mosaic of Brin, the river god, on the far wall and counted my
breaths. On the tenth exhale, I felt my vision blur as my mind's-eye reached towards the flow of Hua in the room. A slight pulse of energy beat at me, rippling across my skin. Around me, large shadowy forms moved and dark eyes watched. I pushed deeper into the energy. Like the creep of sunlight across shade, the circle of ghostly silhouettes brightened into the solid rainbow bodies of the dragons. All of them, except one. No red dragon. I pushed away the heavy disappointment and took a deep breath, inching along the Hua, feeling for the Mirror Dragon, my focus on the gap in the circle. The steam shivered and swirled. Gathered form: dark eyes, red muzzle, gold pearl. All swathed in a dense haze.
'I don't have your name,' I said. My voice echoed around the room. 'I don't have your name.'
The huge eyes looked through me.
'Please, what is your name?'
I stood up. Perhaps I needed to touch the pearl again. Stretching out my hands, I waded forwards. But each step I took thickened the mist around him until he was almost obscured by a wall of fog. I stopped at its edge. The faint outline of the pearl glowed through the opaque barrier. I reached up for it, but instead of touching a hard surface, my hand passed through air.
The dragon was not solid. I thrust both hands through, raking the mist. Nothing.
'What do you want? What do I need to do?' I pleaded.
A whiptail of memory flicked at me — my hands fused to a pulsing pearl, and a dragon's desire peeling back layers to a buried name, the name I could not risk shouting. Did he want that name before he would give his own? I glanced around the room. I knew there was no one else there, but I had not spoken the name in four years. My master had forbidden it, and I had trained myself not to say it, not to think it, not to remember it. The name belonged to another person in another life.
I leaned closer.
'Eona,' I whispered.
I stared into the mist, holding my breath. Nothing. The dragon was still shrouded in fog. I let out my breath in a hiss of despair.
Just as I pulled back, I saw a small gap open in the mist. The thick covering was separating into thin streamers that paled then disappeared. The colours of the dragon slowly sharpened into clarity: the lustre on the gold pearl, the fire of the orange and scarlet scales.
It was working.
'Eona,' I whispered again. I reached up for the pearl, shivering with excitement. 'Please, what is your name?'
But once more my hand passed through the gold orb. I groped into air over and over again.
Although the dragon was bright, he was still not solid. And his eyes did not see me.
My true name wasn't enough.
I sucked in a ragged breath and slapped both hands down into the water, sending a shower over the edge of the bath. Why wasn't it enough?
'What do I have to do?' I yelled.
To my left, a flash of pale blue scales and opal claws reared above me. The Rat Dragon filled my vision, his power fireballing through me. The water in the bath erupted, knocking me off my feet. I went under, struggled for the surface, then felt a force pushing me upwards. I broke into the air, gasping, arms and legs flailing for a grip as I was propelled out of the water. Then I hit something hard. The wall. Shoulder, thigh, knee. I bounced off the cold tiles, falling backwards onto the floor. A moment of quiet numbness, and then my whole side flamed into agony.
'Holy gods,' Rilla said, running from the doorway. 'What's going on?'
'I don't know,' I gasped, curling up against the pain.
And for once I was telling the truth.
The palace guide clapped for attendance at the ornate entrance to the Imperial harem. A porter appeared behind the gilded
laccwork of the gate. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, trying to find a comfortable position between the old pain in my hip and the new aches from the bathing room. Although Rilla had gently pressed along my bones and decided I was only bruised, it was still costing me to stand and wait while the courtesies of entering the harem were played out.
To take my mind off the painful failure to connect with my dragon, I concentrated on the two Shadow Men guarding the gateway Neither eunuch was as large as Ryko, but each had an impressive bulk of muscle across arms and chest. There seemed to be two types of eunuch in the palace: those who had kept the strength and body of a man, and those that were slowly transforming into softer, rounder contours. What made the difference?
I pulled at the high collar of the day tunic that Rilla had picked out for me. It was a deep burnt orange, the front richly embroidered with pale green bamboo for longevity and courage. A good choice, under the circumstances. Rilla had matched it with a pair of grey loose trousers that ended at the ankle. She had told me to come back and change after the lesson — it was not appropriate to wear a day tunic to the Dragoneye Council. Before, I had only ever had two tunics: one for work, one slightly less worn for best. Now I seemed to be changing clothes every few hours.
'Here is Lord Eon, come at the invitation of His Highness Prince Kygo,' the guide announced.
A clatter of locks and latches sounded, and the gate opened. An old man with a face that drooped in doughy folds bowed and motioned me into a dark narrow corridor. The clash of the gate closing behind me echoed off the stone walls.
The Imperial harem was a huge walled and heavily guarded complex of buildings and gardens set in the centre of the palace grounds. It was in the position of Great Abundance, but Lady Dela had told me that this Emperor kept only forty concubines and had fathered only twelve children, four of them to Lady Jila. Apparently he loves her, Lady Dela had said, raising her eyebrows. It was no wonder; Lady Jila had given him his only two sons.
I was led through the cold corridor into the bright warmth of a courtyard that was easily the size of my master's Moon Garden. At the far end, a high brick wall with three gates set into it shielded the rest of the harem from view A row of low buildings on each side, all of them with closed shutters, faced a carefully laid out central garden: narrow paved paths winding around flowerbeds, miniature trees hung with birdcages, and a pond that rippled with the orange gleam of carp. Through the whistling of the captive birds, I heard the faint staccato rise of a giggle. It was cut short by a sharp reprimand. I turned to look, and a cluster of women peering through the bars of the central gate stepped back out of sight.