The Dragon Men

“Eunuchs hardly count,” Cixi said dismissively. “And the workers who built the passage are long dead. No one of importance knows of its existence.”

The eunuchs grabbed the handles, and the doors creaked open. Standing in the opening was a platoon of soldiers with a variety of weapons drawn. At the head, his half-brass face gleaming in the light, stood Su Shun.

Chapter Fifteen

The man carried a small book and wore a long blue tunic over loose white trousers. He laid the book on a small table set with Oriental tea things next to the door and picked up a cup. The brass nightingale fluttered down to perch on his shoulder. “I was reading when you arrived, but now I think it’s time for tea. It’s a nice night to sit outside.”

Gavin took a step forward, then another. He couldn’t stop staring. He stared so hard, his vision seemed to double, creating two men, one surrounded by water, the other reading by candlelight. The man was taller, but he and Gavin had the same white-blond hair, the same sky blue eyes. The nose and chin were different, and the man was broader in the chest and shoulders. His face was unlined, and he didn’t look more than thirty. Still, Gavin knew without a doubt this was his father.

The soft rush of the streams flowed all around them. Gavin abruptly thought of the tarot card at the circus in Kiev. The card had shown a pale-haired man surrounded by water. The man on the card wore blue robes, and in one hand he held a chalice.

“The King of Cups,” Gavin said. “You’re the King of Cups. From the card. Linda flipped you over like a paired particle, and now the pathways cross.”

The man nodded, understanding. “I can see the clockwork plague got you. So yeah, we’re connected like pairs of particles. What slaps you slaps me, yep, yep. Nice to see you, kid. I guess I should say all the father things-how you’ve grown, how much a man you’ve become, how-”

Gavin hit him. Or he tried to. His fist flicked out of its own accord, and the man moved aside just enough for the blow to miss. The little bird clung tightly to his shoulder. Fully angry now, Gavin punched again, a hammer blow to the chest, but the man blocked it with his forearm, again with just enough speed and movement. His cup shattered on the stones. Gavin followed with more blows-left, right, hook, chop. The man dodged or blocked each one. His face remained expressionless. The balanced fight went on for some time, until Gavin backed away, panting. The cloak that was his wings dragged at his back.

“Sorry,” the man said. His voice was low and serene.

“Damn you,” Gavin said, and his voice was equal parts rage and anger.

“You’re pissed at me. You should be, kid. But maybe when you understand-”

“You’re a fuck.” Gavin was spewing venom he hadn’t known he was carrying. “You abandoned me and everyone else, and why? So you could be a monk in China? I grew up missing you and hating and wondering what I did to make you leave. I don’t even know your name because Mom wouldn’t even say it. Understand? I understand. You’re lower than shit on a sewer snail.”

He nodded. “Maybe we can grab a seat. The edge of the porch here is real nice for sittin’ and drinkin’ a little tea at night.”

“What for?” He turned his back and looked out across the dark valley. Stars hard as jewels shone in a black ocean that threatened to swallow them. “Maybe I should just leave. I don’t think anything you say could make me happy.”

“I’m sorry. Really.” The man came up behind Gavin and put a hand on his shoulder. At his touch, liquid gold flowed through Gavin. Warmth bathed him in a delicate river, carrying away fear and anger like so much flotsam and leaving his soul clear as glass. The man dropped his hand, and the feeling receded. The stones came back under his feet and the darkness pressed in, carrying the breath of trees and water. Gavin faced the man again. His wings flared.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice low.

“Qin Lung,” said the man.

“I don’t understand.”

“My name here is Qin Lung. Means-”

“Azure dragon.” Here Gavin did sit down, though it was because his legs went weak. The wings clinked, hanging over the edge of the porch. “All the Dragon Men are named Lung.”

“Yep, yep. They-we-ain’t members of our own families anymore and get the family name Lung. Dragon. The people here don’t see a lot o’ blue eyes, and I came from across the water before I found my balance, so they called me Azure Dragon. My name in America”-he said the word as if he hadn’t spoken it in a long time-“was Henry Uriel Ennock. But I don’t go by Henry. Call me Uri. Or Dad. Whatever floats your airship.”

“Uriel? Your name is Uri?” The revelations were coming thick and fast, which was probably why Gavin couldn’t help but focus on small, foolish details.

“Yep.”

“All right.”

Heavy silence dropped over them. There was so much to say, so much to ask, and Gavin didn’t know where to start. His entire life was a tangle of threads, and he couldn’t find an end to pull. He felt tense and strange. Uri, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. The quiet, serene expression never left his face.

“So,” Uri said, “I’ve sorta lost track of time. How old are you now?”

“I turned nineteen this last summer.” Gavin held up the Impossible Cube. “Though if you look at it another way, you could say I’m twenty-two.”

Uri let that pass. “How’s your ma? And your brothers and sisters?”

This raised some hackles again. “I haven’t heard from them in a while. Jenny’s married and probably has a kid by now. Harry works as a drover, but he drinks. Ma was able to send Patrick to school some with the money I sent her after I joined the Third Ward, but that was a while ago, so I don’t know what he’s up to now. Violet’s working in a factory, I think. You’d know all this if you were home.”

“But I ain’t home, so I don’t know. That’s the way it is.”

It was on the tip of Gavin’s tongue to ask why, but the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

Uri set his hands on his knees. “Your feelings are jumbled up. You wanna talk to me, but you don’t know how.”

“How do I talk to a father who was never there?” Gavin shot back.

“I’m here now. Or maybe you’re here now.” Uri stroked the bird on his shoulder. “It wasn’t easy to make that happen, kid.”

“Yeah? How did you make it happen?”

“Those birds. I invented them a long time ago, when I first got to China,” Uri said in his quiet, absent voice. “They grabbed the emperor’s attention, and he wanted a whole flock of them for a weapon. The Jade Hand ordered me to make them, so I did.”

Uri pointed to his ear, and for the first time, Gavin noticed the salamander curled around it. A strange hope swirled inside him.

“You’ve lived a long time as a Dragon Man,” he said in a tight voice. “I don’t understand how.”

“Nah. You wouldn’t. Not yet.” Uri rose and got two cups of tea from the table. He gave one to Gavin. “But I’m telling this story out of order, aren’t I? It’s because time means somethin’. . different in this place.”

Gavin accepted the cup but twisted it in his fingers, too distracted to think of drinking. Everything was so damned strange. He wanted to hate his father, but he also wanted to please him. He was caught on the edge of a square, unable to tell which way he would tip.

“I was an airman, you know,” Uri said.

“Yeah. Me, too.” He paused, still hanging on the edge of the square. “Are you glad?” Proud?

Uri waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Your own path has to make you glad or not. Another guy’s opinion matters much as wind matters to a mountain. But,” he added thoughtfully, “being an airman is a damned good