Dragon Magic (16 page)

There was only one big boy at the bus stop the next morning—Kim Stevens. Sighting him, disappointed, Artie slowed to a stop and looked the other way. Kim was reading again, a book close to his nose. He was always reading. Maybe that’s why he had to wear glasses, he read so much. And he did not look up or say anything as Artie took a stand to watch down the street for Sig.

But when Sig swung into view he had Ras with him. Artie hesitated.

Though he wanted to talk to Sig, he knew that both Sig and Ras had been in that house fussing around with the puzzle. So, drawing on his courage, Artie stepped deliberately out in their path.

“Hi,” he said, but that greeting did not come out as confidently as he meant it to; rather, it was more as if he were afraid they were not going to answer him.

Sig stared at him for a moment and Ras scowled. Artie was ready to call it quits, only his desperate need to know brought out a rush of words.

“Please, you guys, about those dragons—” He had not meant to go at it just like that, the words seemed to say themselves.

Now they were looking at him as if they did want to hear what he had to say.

“What dragons?” Ras demanded.

The silver one—the blue one—”

Sig grabbed Artie by the arm. “What have you been doing? Snooping around?”

“Wait!” Ras set a shoulder between Sig and Artie. He was watching Artie intently.

“Which one did you make?” he asked in a low voice, hardly above a whisper.

Artie answered promptly with the truth. “The red one, Pendragon.”

“Pendragon?” repeated Sig. He lessened the roughness of his hold on Artie, but he looked more to Ras as he asked, “You know Pendragon?”

“Pendragon? No, never heard of that before. But then I never heard of Fafnir or the lau before either. All right, Artie, so you put together the red dragon, this Pendragon. Then what happened? Give, man!”

Artie told in a bubble of words which got things rather mixed up so that his listeners kept interrupting him with questions he answered impatiently. But he told in detail of the burial of the High King, the throwing of his sword into the river.

“Did—did you dream about him, too?” he ended.

“Not him—” Sig was beginning when the bus came and they climbed in, hurrying for the long seat at the back where they could crowd in together.

“I had Fafnir and Sigurd,” Sig said under the hum of other voices. “And Ras had Sirrush-Lau and Daniel. Tell him, Ras.”

Ras’s story was much shortened, but he was able to make Artie believe in his adventure. They continued to compare notes, each adding more details of his particular dragon venture, sometimes talking all at once.

‘There is still the yellow dragon,” Sig said, “I wonder—”

Ras shook his head. “Won’t do us any good to try, you know what happened before. But I sure would like to know what dragon that is. Not that we ever shall, now. The wreckers are coming this week and the Good Will people have to clean the house out. That puzzle will go with the rest of the stuff.”

“I wish it could be finished. It ought to be!” Sig thumped his fist down on his big notebook. “I want to know what dragon that is.”

The word “dragon” carried to the seat ahead. Although Kim was reading he could catch some of their conversation, just as he had also been aware of their excited words at the bus stop. Now he still held his book open, but instead of reading he listened with all his might to learn more.

Even the fact that the three, who had never paid any attention to one another before, were now so friendly was surprising. They apparently had become a tightly knit group. Dragons—he thought about dragons.

Kim knew a lot of dragon lore from China. There was the green dragon of the east; the dragons who rose to the sky in the spring and plunged into the waters in the fall; Lung, the five-toed dragon, who in the old days could be pictured only in the royal palace or on the robes of the Emperor; the heavenly dragons who guarded the mansions of the old gods; spirit dragons who controlled winds and rain; earth dragons who cleared rivers, deepened seas; the dragons who guarded hidden treasures.

Dragons could take on the bodies of men and appear if they wished among people. He knew the old tales about such dragons and the gifts they gave those they favored, the evil they could do in return to evil men. Yes, there were a lot of stories about dragons. But that’s all they were—just stories. What did these three talking behind him now know about dragons? Now as much as he did. Not that they would ever listen to him.

Suppose he turned around right now and said—

But that was the last thing he was going to do! Kim hated this bus ride, he hated this school! He wanted to go back to the old one, where he knew people. The book he held shook a little, but he continued to use it as a screen. At least, while he looked as if he were reading, no one was going to guess how lonely he was each day. Reading made a good cover to hide the fact that he had no one to talk to, anyway.

A book for a screen. Screens—the old people in China had used screens to shut out demons, Sometimes dragons were carved or pictured on them to frighten the demons. He wished he might summon up a real Chinese dragon—the best kind. What would people say if, like a Taoist sorcerer, he came riding to school on one?

Dragons—but how could there be dragons in that old house? Kim thought of the few words he had caught clearly, puzzled over them. An idea sprang into his mind. What if he went there himself to see? But one did not enter an empty house, it was against the law.

Only, this house was going to be torn down soon, maybe even this week.

So it was not breaking and entering—or was it? A dragon—dragons—those boys mentioned more than one in the house. Pictures or carvings, or maybe a screen. He had heard that the man who once lived there had traveled all over the world. It could well be that he had brought dragon pictures back from the East. And Kim wanted to know—he had to know!

Kim noted that when the bus let them off at the school Artie made no move to hurry away to where Greg Ross and his friends stood arguing over Saturday’s game. Rather, he stayed with Sig and the boy who called himself Ras, all three of them still talking excitedly together. Also, when they were able to ask for library passes in the homeroom period, Kim was not the only one who put up his hand. The three did the same for the first time he could remember.

He watched them in the library, as well as he could when he thought they would not guess that he was doing so. Sig and Ras appeared to know what they wanted. But Artie hesitated and then asked a question of the librarian. She seemed a little surprised and went to the catalog to turn over cards, leaving the drawer open a fraction when she went on to the shelves to pick out a book.

Kim went to the catalog, pulled out the drawer, and looked. There was an open space and he read the title of the book on the card at that point.

The Lantern Bearers
, a book about Roman Britain. He had read it at the other school. It was good—all about the time when the Legions had to leave Britain and the people were left to fight the Saxon invaders on their own. There was a lot in it about the man who was supposed to be the real King Arthur, not the one with the knights and the Round Table.

But what had that to do with dragons? And what were Sig and Ras so interested in? Completely mystified, Kim managed to stand in the checkout line just behind them, making an effort to see the books each held.

Sig had one of hero tales, Ras one on ancient Egypt.

Artie joined the line immediately behind Kim with his selection. As they started for the next class the three joined forces again, each showing his book to the others. But what did Egypt, hero stories, and Roman Britain have in common? Kim shoved his own absent-minded choice into his book bag, absorbed more and more by the mystery of this sudden alliance.

He thought about it off and on all day, until at last he made up his mind. The roots of the mystery must certainly he in the old house, and it had something to do with dragons.

Much as he had held apart from the boys in this new school (they looked upon him as a—they called it “kook,” as he had heard several times), this mystery made him suddenly want to actually solve it. Even if that meant trailing the three, or poking into what they would consider their business alone.

He would not have much time, perhaps no longer than today. So he would try after school, though he still felt queer about going in the old house. If the boys themselves went back he would go after them.

But the three did not even glance at the old house as they got off the bus that afternoon. Instead they went straight on up the street. Sig lived the closest. Kim followed very slowly, trying to make up his mind for sure.

When they reached Sig’s house they went along in with him, still talking.

Now Kim walked very slowly indeed. Sig’s front door opened and banged shut. They were safe inside. What should he do? He had to make up his mind quickly, there would not be much time. Mother would wonder why he was not home if he lingered too long.

He made his decision and hurried back to the drive which led to the old house. Though he still had caution enough to pause there and make sure no one was watching. There were plenty of bushes, you could slip along behind those.

The front door had a big board nailed right across it. Where had Sig, the others, gone in? Must be around back somewhere. Kim plowed through the piles of leaves toward the rear of the house. He saw the porch and the muddy tracks across it, leading to the window. That was it. Again he paused. What was he going to do? He could still go back Only, a second later he knew that he never could. He had to follow this adventure to the end.

Kim struggled to raise the window and then climbed in. Here was a big, dark room. He had been stupid to come without a flashlight. But to get one meant going home, and then maybe not being able to get back. There was light enough to see across the big kitchen, maybe enough in the rest of the house for him to explore. They had all been here before him. And if Artie and Sig and Ras could do it, so could Kim Stevens.

But he did take off his glasses and give them an extra polish with his handkerchief, as if that could make him see better through the gloom.

There were odd noises, little creaks, sighs, which made him uneasy, though he knew that they must come from old boards, and maybe rats or mice, things you find in old houses where no one has lived for some time.

Kim pushed on through the pantry to the dining room, stopping to look about there. Nothing here to suggest even the smallest dragon. He thought the big old furniture was dull and ugly, and there was thick dust everywhere.

Nor did the living room, with all the furniture covered with sheets and newspapers, have anything in it to suggest that anyone had explored here.

No dragon pictures or carvings, though Kim wiped the dust by hand from a couple of glass-fronted cabinets, to see within some cups and saucers and small figures of people and animals.

There was a hall beyond and here were tracks to guide him to the doorway of another room. The door was ajar and he paused to listen.

Almost he expected to hear movement beyond. He had the strangest feeling, as if something stood on the other side waiting for him. But after a moment or two Kim knew it was not dangerous at all, only exciting.

He opened the door a little wider and slipped inside. There was nothing there but a table and a chair sitting by it, as if someone had just left. But light came from one uncovered window and on the table were colors, very bright colors, glowing almost like small lamps.

He went closer to those jewel-like colors. A puzzle! He had had one given to him last Christmas. It had been round, with all kinds of wild animals on it. They had all helped put it together. Mother had set up a table in the room just to hold it while they could work on it. And it had taken a long time to put it together, almost a week.

Kim picked up the lid of the box to look at the guide picture. Dragons!

Four of them, all different. And three of them had been fitted together already. Only the golden one was still a spill of pieces on the tabletop. He examined the picture of it on the cover. It was an imperial dragon—the five-toed Lung! Now, as he looked at the other three, he saw that they were not Chinese—especially the strange blue one. But the gold one was just like those he had seen pictured so many times in Hong Kong.

A lot of the pieces on the table were upside-down and there were red markings on them, like the brush strokes of the old-time writing. Kim poked a few around with a fingertip, and of themselves almost they snapped together so that a red character was plain. He knew a few of the old characters—not many—he could not really read much. Though this one looked strange at first, it made sense.

Just one character, written in red. Another idea swam into his mind, though he did not know from where. In the old days the Emperor was always supposed to write in vermilion, and was not vermilion a kind of red color? Kim wondered where he had learned that.

This character—memory he was not sure of supplied a word, or rather two words: Shui Mien. That meant “sleeping.” But how did he know that?

He was sure he had never seen that character before.

Shui Mien—Lung, added his scrap of memory. Kim was startled, more than a little afraid. Shui Mien Lung! It was as if someone standing unseen in the dusty, half-dark room had repeated the words for him. Yet he had heard nothing—it was as if he heard it in his
mind
! If you could
hear
with your
mind
!

Shui Mien Lung—sleeping dragon. No, again that strange mind-voice corrected him: “Slumbering dragon!”

What—or rather who—was the slumbering dragon?

Kim dropped in the chair, and without planning to do so began to sort out the pieces of the golden dragon, turning over quickly those with the disturbing word on the back so he could no longer see it. This went here, that there, a five-clawed foot of an imperial dragon took shape. Then he had it all except one piece for the head—an eye on it. But the eye was closed, the dragon slept. Or did he? Was there the smallest hint of a raising lid? Did the dragon only pretend to sleep?