It took a moment before Byam understood what she was talking about. It hadn’t thought of the cintamani in years. But then the surge of bitterness and longing was as fresh as ever, even in the midst of Byam’s grief.
‘It’s in the name, isn’t it?’ said Byam. ‘The jewel that grants all wishes.’
‘Do you have a lot of wishes that need granting?’
Byam could think of some, but to tell Leslie about them would only distress her. It wasn’t like Leslie wanted to die. At sixty-three she still had so much left she wanted to see and do in this life.
Byam had always thought before that humans must be used to dying, since they did it all the time. But now it had got to know them better, it saw they had no idea how to deal with it.
This was unfortunate, because Byam didn’t know either.
‘I guess I just always imagined I’d have one some day,’ it said. It tried to remember what it had felt like before it had given up on becoming a dragon and acquiring its own cintamani. ‘It was like… if I didn’t have that hope, life would have no meaning.’
Leslie nodded. She was still gazing out of the window. ‘You should try again.’
‘Let’s not worry about it now…’
‘You have thousands of years,’ said Leslie. ‘You shouldn’t just give up.’ She looked Byam in the eye. ‘Don’t you still want to be a dragon?’
Byam would have liked to say ‘no’. It was unfair of Leslie to awaken all these dormant feelings in Byam at a time when it already had too many feelings to deal with.
‘Eun-hye should be here soon,’ it said. Leslie’s niece was almost the same age Leslie had been when Byam had first come to her office with murder in its heart. Eun-hye had a child herself now, which still seemed implausible to Byam. ‘She’s bringing Sam, won’t that be nice?’
‘Don’t talk to me like I’m an old person,’ said Leslie, annoyed. ‘I’m dying, not decrepit. Come on, Byam. I thought repression was a human thing.’
‘That shows how much you know,’ said Byam. ‘When you’ve been a failure for three thousand years, you get good at repressing things.’
‘I’m just saying—’
‘I don’t know why you’re…’ Byam scrubbed its face. ‘Am I not good enough as I am?’
‘Of course you’re good enough,’ said Leslie. ‘If you’re happy, then that’s fine. But you should know you can be anything you want to be. That’s all. I don’t want you to let fear hold you back.’
Byam was silent.
Leslie said, ‘I only want to know you’ll be OK after I’m dead.’
‘I wish you’d stop saying that,’ said Byam.
‘I know.’
‘I don’t want you to die.’
‘I know.’
Byam laid its head on the bed. If it closed its eyes it could almost pretend they were home, with the cat snoozing on Leslie’s feet.
After a while it said, without opening its eyes, ‘What’s your next form going to be?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Leslie. ‘We don’t get told in advance.’ She brightened. ‘Maybe I’ll be an imugi.’
‘Don’t say such things,’ said Byam, aghast. ‘You haven’t been that bad!’
This made Leslie laugh, which made her cough, so Byam called the nurse, and then Eun-hye came with her little boy, so there was no more talk of dragons or cintamani or reversing a pragmatic surrender to the inevitable.
That night the old dreams started again – the ones where Byam was a dragon. But they were a relief compared to the dreams it had been having lately.
It didn’t mention them to Leslie. She would only say, ‘I told you so.’
*
For a long moment after Byam woke, it was confused. The cintamani still hung in the air before it. Then it blinked and the orb revealed itself to be a lamp by the hospital bed.
Leslie was awake, her eyes on Byam. ‘Hey.’
Byam wiped the drool from its cheek, sitting up. ‘Do you want anything? Water, or—’
‘No,’ said Leslie. Her voice was thin, a mere thread of sound. ‘I was just watching you sleep like a creeper.’
But then she paused. ‘There is something, actually.’
‘Yeah?’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘If there’s anything I can give you,’ said Byam, ‘you’ll get it.’
Still Leslie hesitated.
‘Could I see you?’ she said finally. ‘In your true form, I mean.’
There was a brief silence.
Leslie said, ‘If you don’t want to…’
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Byam. ‘Are you sure you won’t be scared?’
Leslie nodded. ‘It’ll still be you.’
Byam looked around the room. There wasn’t enough space, so it would have to make itself smaller. But that was a simple magic.
It hadn’t expected the sense of relief as it expanded into itself. It was as though for several decades it had been wearing shoes a size too small and now it had been allowed to take them off.
Leslie’s eyes were wide.
‘Are you OK?’ said Byam.
‘Yes,’ said Leslie, but she raised her hands to her face. Byam panicked, but before it could transform again, Leslie rubbed her eyes and said, ‘Don’t change back! I haven’t looked properly yet.’
Her eyes were wet. She studied Byam as though she was trying to imprint the sight onto her memory.
‘I’d look better with legs,’ said Byam shyly. ‘And antlers. And a bumpy forehead…’
‘You’re beautiful.’ Leslie touched Byam’s side. Her hand was warm. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? That day in the mountains.’
Byam shrank back. It said, its heart in its mouth, ‘You knew?’
‘I’ve known for a while.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘Guess I was waiting for you to tell me.’ Leslie gave Byam a half-smile. ‘You know me, I hate confrontation. Anything to avoid a fight.’
‘I should have told you,’ said Byam. ‘I wanted to, I just…’ It had never been able to work out how to tell Leslie its original plan had been to devour her in an act of misdirected revenge.
Dumb, dumb, dumb. Byam could only blame itself for its failures.
‘You should’ve done.’ But Leslie didn’t seem mad. Maybe she just didn’t have the energy for it anymore.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Byam. Leslie held out her hand and it slid closer,
