“You slew it.”
Brother Horse spread his hands. “It is not really slain, but it will be many years before its substance knits back together.”
“You drew it through the drum.”
“Yes. It is a dweller in the lake. Cast out of its waters, without flesh about it, it suffocates, in a sense. It comes unbound.”
“Are all gods thus?”
“No. The Breath Feasting is delicate, in some ways. But any passage through the drum—from one side of the 'lake' to the other—must be prepared for, by spirit, god, or Human. The transition is always dangerous.”
“What are you talking about? What lake?” Tsem asked.
“I'll explain later,” Hezhi said, patting his arm. “I promise I'll explain later.”
“Good. Because right now, the two of you sound quite mad.”
Brother Horse did not grin, but his old humor seemed to flicker in his eyes as he shook his head and said, “Indeed. Madness is a prerequisite for becoming a gaan.” He reached down and gave his dog a scratch between the ears.
Tsem rolled his eyes. “Then everyone out here but me must be one.”
Yuu'han chose that moment to interrupt.
“Out on the plain,” he said. “Look.”
Hezhi followed the pointing finger, but all she saw was moonlight and clouds. Ngangata and Brother Horse, however, had a different reaction.
“I thought they would hold them longer,” the old man remarked.
“Perhaps it is someone else.”
“Perhaps.”
“What? What is it?” Hezhi asked.
“See there?” Ngangata pointed.
Hezhi followed the imaginary line described by his finger, but still she saw nothing. “No.”
“It's a campfire. Someone following us, between a day and half a day behind.”
Brother Horse groaned. “I had hoped to rest before sunup.”
“We can rest in the saddle,” Ngangata answered. “At least our tracks will be covered.”
“What do you mean?” Hezhi asked. But then she understood, as the first patter of rain came from outside. A distant thunder tremored, and a line of blue fire walked around the far horizon.
“I told you it would rain,” Ngangata said. But he was looking at Perkar, who moaned once more, and Hezhi thought she caught the hint of a smile on his wide, strange lips, a whisper of thanks from his halfling eyes.
XX Dragons
GHAN paused at the threshold of the library and turned back, scrutinizing each block of visible shelving as the soldiers with him coughed impatiently.
“Wait,” Ghan grumbled. He could see a volume, lying on a table, out of place. He moved stiffly across the room to retrieve it.
“Now, where do you go?” he asked rhetorically, checking the notation on the book, which told him exactly that. It belonged in the labyrinthine rear stacks—the ones Hezhi had named “the Tangle.” He motioned to the soldiers to indicate he would return shortly and took the book to its shelf. Alone, he rested his head against leather-bound spines.
“I've spent my whole life among you,” he muttered to the books. “What will you do without me?”
The tomes did not answer him, of course, but as he walked heavily back to the waiting guards, to his surprise, he answered himself. He rested his fingers on Grimoire Tertiary, the last in the row before he again crossed the reading area.
“Good-bye,” he whispered. “Someone will always come who cares for you. Someone.”
And then he left, not looking back again, turning his mind stubbornly outward to what must be.
I have seen dragons, he wrote a bit later as, ignoring everyone else on the barge, he spread his things in his quarters and began to write. They were, in their way, magnificent. Bone Eel called them with his blood, though I would have believed it too deficient to summon even a worm. But it was enough; they turned and writhed in the water like living waves, scintillating with the hues of a green rainbow. Quite beautiful. When they slid into their moorings, down beneath the barge, the first tug showed their power, for in one moment we were still and in the next the boat was in motion. Soon we will not give them a second thought, but they must work tirelessly, pulling us up the River that gives them life.
He set the pen aside then, folded down onto his bed, and closed his eyes. The day had been long and wrought much upon him, and even writing gave him little solace.
GHE emerged into the light before dawn, and Nhol was gone. Even with his enhanced vision, the River was almost all that he could see; on the nearest side he could make out the artificial horizon of the levee, willow, cottonwood, and bamboo rambling at its base. The other bank was so distant that it showed only as a thin green line. He took in a breath and thought it clean, new. They were in motion! The expedition—his expedition—had begun. And they would find her, he was sure of that. It was a vast certainty, inhuman in scope, but it still gave him joy.
Footsteps approached; the ghost of the blind boy identified them instantly, knew the cadence of walking like a name from first introduction, and so Ghe did not turn but called out, instead, a soft greeting, enjoying the sigh of air across the moving barge. “Lady Qwen Shen,” he remarked. “You stir at an odd hour.”
“As do you, Lord Yen.”
He half turned his face toward her so that she could discern his sardonic grin. “No lord I, Lady.”
“Is that so? I wonder, then, why the emperor gave this expedition into your hands.”
“Your husband is the captain, madam.”
“Oh, yes.” She sighed. “My husband. Perhaps we should speak of him.”
“Speak, Lady?”
The corners of her mouth turned up, and he noticed, once again, her great beauty, the slightly … exotic air about her.
“The emperor told you that he would furnish you with a barge to pursue your quest—and the trappings to go with the barge. A crew, a captain. My husband, Bone Eel, is just such a trapping.”
Ghe scratched at the scar on his chin. “Then who gives these soldiers their orders?”
“Bone Eel does. But he gives the orders I suggest, and I suggest what you tell me to. That is how command works on this vessel.”
“That seems needlessly elaborate,” Ghe observed. “Is Bone Eel aware of this arrangement?”
“Aware?” Ghe turned so that he could see the lady's eyes sparkle as she spoke. “He is barely aware that breath passes in and out of his lungs. He is quite unaware that he never conceives an idea of his own. The emperor has given him a charter to sail up-River to 'Wun and parts beyond' as the emperor's ambassador. It is up to you and me to determine to what 'parts beyond' we shall navigate.”
“No offense, Lady Qwen Shen, but wouldn't it have been simpler to put Bone Eel—or some other captain—directly under my command?”