been so worried about you.”
She picked up the rat and examined him. A patchof fur had been neatly shaved off him and several of his whiskers were missing.
“What have they done to you?”
Dong Fang Suo suddenly popped out from behind a twisted rock. Hua dived back under the pile of leaves.
“And the dragon’s speech?” the Imperial Magician asked.
He carried on his conversation from the previous day as if he’d just paused to order his thoughts. Ping felt so weak, she was worried she might fall into a faint. She focused on the magician’s misshapen slippers.
“Were you the only one who could understand it?”
“I have only met one other person who could understand dragon speech,” Ping replied. “That was Wang Cao, the herbalist. Unfortunately a dragon hunter killed him. But he wasn’t a true Dragonkeeper. He didn’t have second sight.”
“Did you always understand Danzi?” he asked.
“No, understanding only seems to come when the Dragonkeeper has been in the company of a dragon for some time.”
Dong Fang Suo nodded his head. “The same as the second sight,” he said.
“Yes.”
The Imperial Magician thought about this for quite a long time. Then he spoke again. “Come with me, Ping. The Longevity Council is waiting.”
The Imperial Magician led Ping to the Chamberof Spreading Clouds. Ping slowly followed him. Two carved chairs with cushions on them had been placed at one end of the chamber. The other four members of the Longevity Council were gathered there. A nervous-looking imperial guard came in carrying a cloth bundle. He placed it on a low table and gingerly opened out the corners. The bundle contained all her belongings—her gold coins, her jade pendant, the dragon-stone shards, the dragon scale, the large leaf folded in half. Her comb, sewing needle and thread were also there. Her cooking things were there, as well as her hand-carved bucket and a soup ladle that was identical to the one hanging over Ping’s arm. The only things that weren’t there were the Dragonkeeper’s mirror, which she kept in a secret pocket sewn inside her gown, and the imperial seal, which was in her pouch.
The strange men of the Longevity Council inspected her belongings. They peered at her simple cooking utensils as if they might hold deep secrets. But they didn’t touch anything. They poked at her belongings with sticks—except for the blind minister who sniffed each item.
Everyone in the room suddenly collapsed to their knees and bowed their heads to the floor. The Emperor entered, sweeping into the room in his formal yellow satin gown woven through with soaring golden dragons. Ping was feeling faint, so she wasrelieved to sink to her knees. A young woman was with the Emperor, her hand resting lightly on his arm. It was the weeping woman from the pavilion, Princess Yangxin. She was as slender as a sapling and took such tiny steps that she seemed to glide, like a swan on a still pool. Her gown was made of lilac silk gauze, which was so light it floated around her. Her sleeves were so deep they nearly reached the floor.
The Emperor escorted the Princess to one of the carved chairs. He took her hand to lend her support as she lowered herself gracefully onto it. A lady-in-waiting arranged the Princess’s gown around her. The Emperor smiled fondly at the Princess. Ping felt a pang of sadness. Perhaps he would smile at her again if he knew about Kai.
The Emperor gave permission for everyone to get to their feet. Ping stayed on her knees. She could see the Princess’s face for the first time. Her eyes glistened. They were dark and moist as if about to overflow with tears. Her lips were painted red, but her mouth was down-turned. Her face was as pale as moonlight. She was the most beautiful woman Ping had ever seen. But she was also the saddest. It wasn’t just her sorrowful face. A shroud of miserable sadness cloaked her just as the folds of her gorgeous gown did.
The Emperor didn’t sit. Without
She picked up the rat and examined him. A patchof fur had been neatly shaved off him and several of his whiskers were missing.
“What have they done to you?”
Dong Fang Suo suddenly popped out from behind a twisted rock. Hua dived back under the pile of leaves.
“And the dragon’s speech?” the Imperial Magician asked.
He carried on his conversation from the previous day as if he’d just paused to order his thoughts. Ping felt so weak, she was worried she might fall into a faint. She focused on the magician’s misshapen slippers.
“Were you the only one who could understand it?”
“I have only met one other person who could understand dragon speech,” Ping replied. “That was Wang Cao, the herbalist. Unfortunately a dragon hunter killed him. But he wasn’t a true Dragonkeeper. He didn’t have second sight.”
“Did you always understand Danzi?” he asked.
“No, understanding only seems to come when the Dragonkeeper has been in the company of a dragon for some time.”
Dong Fang Suo nodded his head. “The same as the second sight,” he said.
“Yes.”
The Imperial Magician thought about this for quite a long time. Then he spoke again. “Come with me, Ping. The Longevity Council is waiting.”
The Imperial Magician led Ping to the Chamberof Spreading Clouds. Ping slowly followed him. Two carved chairs with cushions on them had been placed at one end of the chamber. The other four members of the Longevity Council were gathered there. A nervous-looking imperial guard came in carrying a cloth bundle. He placed it on a low table and gingerly opened out the corners. The bundle contained all her belongings—her gold coins, her jade pendant, the dragon-stone shards, the dragon scale, the large leaf folded in half. Her comb, sewing needle and thread were also there. Her cooking things were there, as well as her hand-carved bucket and a soup ladle that was identical to the one hanging over Ping’s arm. The only things that weren’t there were the Dragonkeeper’s mirror, which she kept in a secret pocket sewn inside her gown, and the imperial seal, which was in her pouch.
The strange men of the Longevity Council inspected her belongings. They peered at her simple cooking utensils as if they might hold deep secrets. But they didn’t touch anything. They poked at her belongings with sticks—except for the blind minister who sniffed each item.
Everyone in the room suddenly collapsed to their knees and bowed their heads to the floor. The Emperor entered, sweeping into the room in his formal yellow satin gown woven through with soaring golden dragons. Ping was feeling faint, so she wasrelieved to sink to her knees. A young woman was with the Emperor, her hand resting lightly on his arm. It was the weeping woman from the pavilion, Princess Yangxin. She was as slender as a sapling and took such tiny steps that she seemed to glide, like a swan on a still pool. Her gown was made of lilac silk gauze, which was so light it floated around her. Her sleeves were so deep they nearly reached the floor.
The Emperor escorted the Princess to one of the carved chairs. He took her hand to lend her support as she lowered herself gracefully onto it. A lady-in-waiting arranged the Princess’s gown around her. The Emperor smiled fondly at the Princess. Ping felt a pang of sadness. Perhaps he would smile at her again if he knew about Kai.
The Emperor gave permission for everyone to get to their feet. Ping stayed on her knees. She could see the Princess’s face for the first time. Her eyes glistened. They were dark and moist as if about to overflow with tears. Her lips were painted red, but her mouth was down-turned. Her face was as pale as moonlight. She was the most beautiful woman Ping had ever seen. But she was also the saddest. It wasn’t just her sorrowful face. A shroud of miserable sadness cloaked her just as the folds of her gorgeous gown did.
The Emperor didn’t sit. Without
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