Shadow Sister (9 page)

The old man brushed away his tears.

“When I realised that she had been bitten too, I saw that it had taken off the end of her finger, but it seemed to be healing. The first ones to be bitten died immediately. Others took a little longer. The beast’s venom seemed to lose its strength. Baoyu was its final victim. I hoped she would survive. But as the days passed, the wound turned purple and swollen with poison. Then it turned black and the flesh started to rot away. It left a festering hole. You could see through to the bone. She was in terrible pain.”

The old man was stroking a worn child’s jacket.

“And then we saw nomads. We knew of their attacks down on the plain. We had seen the city on fire several times over the years, but they had never ventured onto our mountain before. Yet there they were. The other elders said that the people of Shenchi no longer had a place in the north. I wasn’t so sure. They decided to try to find the southern city, to go far away from nomads. Only the strong could go. They wanted to leave the weak behind – an old woman whose mind had gone, my granddaughter, myself and this babe who has no mother to feed him. The old woman didn’t eat and died after a few days. I am not a hunter or a gatherer of food. I worked with metal. I made the tools for our village, though there was little ore or metal that came our way. I mostly refashioned broken things.” His mind was far away for a while, back in a time when his village existed and his family still lived.

“The fever entered my granddaughter about a week ago. She cried out for her mother. In her child’s voice she cursed the monster. She was the one who found food for us after her mother died. I know nothing about food gathering. But even if we had food, she wouldn’t have survived. She died too. Yesterday, or was it the day before? In the end, it was a relief to see her at peace.”

He held up the grubby jacket. “This is hers.”

Kai pointed to a small pile of stones that Tao hadn’t noticed before. It was a burial cairn, poorly built and surrounded by a circle of freshly burnt grass where the pyre had been.

“It is not our way to burn the bodies of our dead, but I didn’t have the strength to dig a grave. That cairn was all I could manage.”

He looked at the sleeping baby.

“When this babe dies, my entire family will be dead. There will be no point in me continuing to live.”

“Your baby grandson is not dead yet, sir,” Tao said. “Too many people have died. I will do everything I can to make sure he lives.”

“But I can’t feed him. I don’t know anything about finding food and cooking. That is women’s work.”

“In difficult times, food is everyone’s business. You can learn these skills,” Tao said.

“But …”

“In Luoyang, there are many broken families. Girls learn how to hunt. Men grow vegetables. Women build houses. I used to be a novice monk. I had never prepared food in my life before I left my monastery. I’ve had to learn. You must too.”

“The world is upside down,” the old man said with a shake of his head.

He noticed the bronze bowl for the first time. “I mended that bowl. See the seam where it was broken?”

“We salvaged it from your village. We meant no offence. You can have it back.”

“I have no use for it now.”

Tao let the grain cook until it was mushy. He mashed a piece of the roasted taro root into the grain and added water, making a sort of soup. Kai poured some into the melon gourd. “That is for you,” he said. “I will add meat to the rest. The old man needs it and so does the babe.”

Tao didn’t argue.

Kai took the rabbit from the fire and broke it into small pieces, adding some of the meat to the pot. He offered it to the old man who took it and was about to slurp the soup down, but Tao stopped him.

“Let it cool. You must eat a small amount at first – a mouthful of meat, a spoonful of grain.” Tao knew something about starvation. Desperate villagers had come to Yinmi begging for food. And there were monks who fasted for many days. “If you eat too much, too quickly, it will make you sick. You will waste the food. And your body is frail. The shock of too much food could kill you.”

The old man blew on the soup and took a sip.

The baby stirred as if woken by the smell of the food. Tao picked him up.

“He’s old enough to eat other things besides his mother’s milk.” He curved a leaf to make a spoon, scooped up some of the grainy broth and let it trickle into the baby’s mouth.

Tao and Kai spent the next two days administering small portions of food to the man and the baby, gradually increasing the amount. Tao walked with the old man in the forest, showing him where to find food, and which roots were edible. They left Kai to mind the baby, which gave the dragon a rest from shape-changing.

“Your friend doesn’t have much to say,” the old man said.

“That is his way,” Tao replied. He didn’t see any need to go into details.

After a few more days, the old man was finding food and cooking broth. The baby was starting to hold up his head and make gurgling sounds.

“Gradually, he will be able to eat more solid food,” Tao said. “Make sure everything is well cooked. Chew his meat for him at first. And if you come across anyone with an animal giving milk, beg them for some. Look after yourself as well. He cannot survive without you, so you must keep healthy.”

The old man’s face fell. “But can’t we stay with you? You have no family. We could be your family.”

“No, we don’t know where we are going.” He glanced at Kai. “If you don’t want to live a solitary life, you must find a community to live among, so that your grandson has someone to care for him, when …” The man was old. He would be lucky to see his grandson reach five years.

“Where will I go?” the old man said.

“You could take your chances in Luoyang.” Tao pointed at the dark smudge of the city that was visible through the trees. “It has its dangers, but it is close. The monks at the White Horse Temple will help you until you find a home, and your skills as a smith will be welcomed.”

“I would rather return to Shenchi.”

“You can’t. It is ruined, and the monster may still be there. Face forwards, not backwards. That is my advice.”

“Heaven is angry with us because we did not care for our dead.”

“They are buried in a cave. Not skilfully, but at least they are not out in the open. And I said prayers and made a commemorative carving for them. Your dead are at peace.”

“Tell me where this cave is where my people are buried. I want to be with my people.”

“They have all gone their separate way into new lives.”

The old man didn’t seem convinced. Despite making the bell for the village temple, Tao could tell that he hadn’t let go of the old beliefs.

“If you want to be with your people, then you should seek out the living, not the dead.” Tao said. “Follow the other Shenchi survivors and go to the southern city. It is a long way, but you will meet travellers on the road. If you can find a party to travel with, you should be safe. If you do catch up with your people, you will have proved that you and your grandson will not be a burden to them. If not, I can give you the name of my family who have moved to the southern city. I do not know where they will be, but I feel sure that someone will know of them.”

The old man nodded slowly. The baby was asleep, wrapped in his sister’s jacket. “I will do it for him.”

Tao was troubled by the poor state of the dead girl’s cairn, which looked as if it would not withstand a strong wind.

“May I improve your granddaughter’s burial cairn, sir?” Tao asked. “Could I recite a sutra for her?”

The old man didn’t object. Tao collected stones to add to the grave. The old man dozed and when the baby woke, Kai amused him by shape-changing into a puppy, a bird and a butterfly. The baby laughed.

“He is watching you shape-change, but it isn’t making him sick,” Tao said.

“He still has the innocence of infancy,” Kai said. “He has not yet learned suspicion and fear.”

When Tao had enough stones, he carefully reinforced the young girl’s cairn. As he worked, some stones collapsed, revealing a pale grey bone. It was so small and delicate. When he touched it, he felt a chill pass through him. It wasn’t a cold night and there wasn’t a breath of wind. He thought he heard someone crying, but decided it was a night bird. He recited a sutra. He seemed to be spending a lot of time tending the dead. He finished his work.

The old man woke from his doze. “Is she properly at peace now?”

“Yes. She is at peace. Her soul has departed to find a new body and a new life.”

Tao and Kai walked with the old man the next day until they found the road that led south.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with him?” Kai said, as they watched the old man stride confidently into his unknown future. His baby grandson was strapped to him in a sling Tao had made from the dead granddaughter’s jacket. “You could go south and join your own family.”

Tao thought for a moment. “If you’re not going to the dragon haven in my lifetime, then this is what I should do.”

“What?”

“Help people. The people of Huaxia are in great need. The nomads mistreat them, and they don’t have enough food to feed their children.”

Tao was glad to have a purpose. The truth was he was just as scared of his responsibilities when they reached the dragon haven as Kai was. He had felt useful for the first time in a while. Helping people was something he knew about, something he could get better at. After seeing so many dead, he had enjoyed helping the living survive.

“What about you, Kai?”

“Our destinies are entwined. You were right; we must go to the dragon haven. I must give you the dragonkeeper’s mirror.”

“So you’re not going to wait until you have wings?”

“We will wait, but only until spring. You cannot travel through the mountains in winter. You will die.”

This time what the dragon said made sense.

“Until then, I will assist you as you help the people of Huaxia.”

Tao smiled. “The world changes. Empires grow and then fade away. There is no reason why the role of a dragonkeeper should not change as well.”

Kai made his happy wind-chime sound. “We will work together. This will be part of your training. People will tell stories of the dragon and the Buddhist who helped the poor.”

The old man turned and waved before he disappeared around a bend in the road. Tao’s blanket was rolled up and slung across the man’s back.

“You will be the first Buddhist dragonkeeper,” Kai said.

Tao liked the idea.

Kai promised that they would go somewhere away from Luoyang. He found a new path and as they walked, they enjoyed the sunlight and the freedom and the lack of fear. The further they travelled from the underground caves, the more sensible it seemed not to rush off to the dragon haven immediately.

Tao felt a new sense of purpose, now that he could see the sky and they had a firm plan. The monks at Yinmi had always cared for the poor and the injured, and there was no shortage of such people who needed help in Huaxia.

“How will we find people to help?” Kai asked.

“They will cross our path, as the old man and the baby did.”

They’d been walking for weeks and the man from Shenchi and his grandson were the only needy people they had come across for the entire journey. Tao decided to recite more sutras, to think more holy thoughts. Surely Buddha would direct their steps towards those who deserved their help.

They walked all day and, after eating, Kai was snoring gently before Tao finished clearing his sleeping spot of rocks and twigs. A half-moon had risen. In its light, the trees cast shadows – looming shapes with outstretched limbs and sharp twiggy fingers. Earwigs and cockroaches were scuttling around in the leaf litter, going about their night-time business. Most people didn’t like these insects, but Tao admired their industry. He noticed they avoided one particular patch of moon shadow which didn’t quite match the shape of the dead tree stump that cast it. One shaft of moonlight shone right into Tao’s eyes. Where Kai was sleeping, the forest canopy was denser and no moonlight found its way through. Tao got up and moved closer to the dragon, clearing away twigs and rocks for a second time. He lay down again, but he still couldn’t get to sleep.

Tao shivered as they walked the next morning, even though the sun had frightened away all but a few thin strands of cloud. “It was cold last night.”

“It was no colder than the night before, or the one before that,” Kai said.

“You have a thick hide to keep you warm.”

“You should not have given away your blanket to the old man. I said so.”

“He needed it for the baby.”

Tao had given the old man the gourd as well. He would have given him the bronze bowl from his village, but the gourd was lighter and served just as well as a cooking pot and a dish.

Kai was peering at the ground.

“Can you see signs of the beast again?”

“I have not seen any paw prints for some time.”

“Good. I hope it’s far away.”

Now Tao knew that the mysterious creature was responsible for the deaths of the people of Shenchi, he didn’t want to come face to face with it.

Kai had found nothing to interest him on the path, and was snuffing the breeze. “I can smell smoke.”

The path, which had wound its way along flat ground for several
li
, started to slope down, soon becoming so steep someone had cut steps into it. Kai was about to start climbing down the steps when Tao grabbed his mane and held him back.

“I can hear something. It sounds like … laughter.”

The dragon peered through the forest below them. He made a scraping metal sound.

“What do you see?”

Kai was pointing a talon at a clearing, not half a
li
away, partially hidden by trees. “I can see a patch of yellow, bright yellow.”

“Is it a tree with yellow leaves?”

“It is brighter than leaves, brighter than flowers. It is cloth. Clothing.”

Tao’s heart shrivelled within him. There was only one person he knew in Huaxia who wore such a bright colour.