motioning for him to bow. Hannon dropped to his knees, his swords held in a wavering salute. For a moment, I didn't think he was going to make it back up, but he finally pushed himself onto his feet and was ushered to the other side of the mirror. Callan followed, his bow slow but correct. Quon had to be led to the mirror and eased down onto the sand. I saw his bleak face as he was hauled back to his feet; if a person could die of disappointment, Quon would soon be with his ancestors.
It was my turn. Van handed me my swords.
'Do you need my help?' he asked.
I squeezed the grips and felt a sluggish surge of the ancient energy — enough to get me to the mirror. I shook my head and started to pick my way across the churned sand.
The centre of the dark glass held the greenish sheen of a black pearl. My master had once worn such a gem, before he sold it for food. But there were no more gems to sell — only crippled bond servants. I stood and stared into the mirror for a moment, gathering the effort needed to drop to my knees. The dense blackness was strangely soothing. I blinked, trying to clear a stab of brightness from my eyes.
A line of light suddenly flared at the top, burning downwards like a fuse. It split the glass, peeling back the darkness into a blinding radiance that pushed me off my feet. The swords spun out of my hands as I groped at the air. I hit the sand on my back, the impact shuddering through me and locking my breath. Above the mirror, I saw the Emperor's guards lean over with
their arms shielding their eyes. Had I done something wrong? I finally found air and sucked it in. Behind me, the sounds of the celebration had disintegrated into the clash of faltering instruments and screams.
Crackling energy sheared across my skin. Red flashed through the mirror, too large to have form. The ground shook as sand flew into the air and showered over the arena. Men were scattering — officials, audience, candidates — stumbling and falling in their panic. The reflection in front of me was filled with a landscape of rippling red and orange. I pushed myself up onto my feet, fighting t hrough a heavy press of power. The brilliant colours rushed past the glass in a river of fire, then suddenly stopped. I finally recognised the shapes: a graceful length of muzzle and the curve of a nostril. Twice the size of the Rat Dragon. Then I saw an eye, as large and round as a cartwheel, staring at me from the glass.
Another dragon.
A dragon I had never seen before.
The image moved again, a dizzying turn of red and yellow that ended in a reflection of two horns arching over a thick mane that shimmered with gold and bronze. The dragon filled the entire reflection, blotting out any sight of the arena. The air thickened with heat and I heard the slide of a huge weight behind me. On cither side of me, deep grooves appeared in the sand. Reaching out blindly, I brushed soft-ridged scales and snatched back my hand. The rich sweetness of cinnamon was on my tongue a moment before I felt hot breath on my hair. I looked at the mirror and saw myself standing between the beast's forelegs, a tiny red figure almost lost against the bright crimson of the deep chest. The broad muzzle was hanging above my head, the fang only a finger-tip away I spun around.
Curled over me was the real dragon. I could see him. The shift of the heavy muscles. The delicate pattern of scalloped scales. The sheen of the gold-tinged pearl held beneath his chin.
He ducked his head, bringing his eyes closer, the ancient gaze pulling me into light and dark, Sun and Moon, Lin and Gan. He was birth and death. He was Hua.
He was the Mirror Dragon. The lost dragon.
The great head lifted, offering me the pearl. Offering me his power.
I raised my hands, hesitating as a deep thrum of energy pulsed from the gem. So much raw Hua — what would it do to me?
A soft huff of spicy breath touched my face then the pearl was pressing hard against my palms. It was warm with his body heat, the surface flaring with a gold-edged flame that flicked my skin in silky stings. I heard a rumbling acknowledgement from the crowd. They could see him too. They could see the Mirror Dragon choosing me — Eon, the cripple. Then the deep murmur changed into shouts. I wrenched my gaze from the Mirror Dragon's hold.
Men were pointing, cowering in their seats, scrambling away. All of the other dragons had suddenly materialised on the top of the mirrors; eleven massive solid bodies, their hides gleaming in colours that made the rich silks of the cringing nobles seem dull. The Ox Dragon stretched an amethyst claw towards me, the dark purple of his leg softening into the colour of dusk shadows. The Tiger Dragon ducked his emerald head, a bow that showed a thick moss mane flecked with copper. I twisted around to see the others, barely taking in the dawn pinks of the Rabbit Dragon, the bold orange Horse Dragon, the silvery Goat Dragon. My mind grabbed images of the other beasts: copper, ebony, brown, ivory, soft grey. All of them staring at me with their spirit eyes.
The arena was a heaving mass of movement: officials and musicians running for the rampway men of all ranks scrabbling over seats to the upper levels. In all of the shrill hysteria, the stillness of a nearby figure drew my gaze. Lord Ido. His face was stiff with shock, his hands flexing in and out of fists. He tilted back his head, turning to see the circle of dragons. They were all bowing to the Mirror I)ragon. Bowing to me. Even the Ascendant Rat Dragon.
Eleven
mighty beasts holding their heads in low obeisance, the huge pearls under their chins reflected in the ring of mirrors like a god's necklace. Narrowing his eyes, Lord Ido faced the Rat Dragon and braced himself, as if hauling a great weight. He slowly drew up his hands, sucking power from the earth. I saw it streaming through him as clearly as I saw the flare of his seven energy centres. He was calling the Rat Dragon. I could hear it, like a deep vibration in my body, demanding the beast's attention. Slowly, reluctantly, the blue dragon rose from his bow. Lord Ido dropped his arms and swung around to stare at me. For a moment, I thought I saw his bold features tighten with fear. But then he smiled — a slow baring of teeth — and I knew it was not fear. It was hunger.
Above me, the Mirror Dragon crooned and I felt something shift through my being, like a whisper at the edge of my senses. Something important. I laid my ear against the pearl and held my breath, straining to hear. For a moment it surged closer, pushing up against a dark resistance. I caught a soft lilt with no form, no meaning, and then it faded away like the end of a sigh. I spread my fingers across the hard velvety surface — a silent plea to let me try again.
But it was gone.
What had I let slip away?
The pearl moved under my hands as the dragon lifted his head. He called for me, a piercing shriek that coursed through my body, searching for my core. There was nowhere to hide from the silver rush of energy. It stripped my soul bare, peeling back the shell of Eon. Finding me.
Finding Eona.
My true name surged through me, dredged from the very < lepths of my being. I had to call my name to the world, celebrate the truth of our union. It was the dragon's demand.
No!
They would kill me. Kill my master. I clenched my teeth. The name filled my head, thundering through it, spiking into crescendos of pain. Eona. Eona. Eona.
No! It would be my death. I dragged my face off the pearl but my hands would not move, fused by the pulsing power. I screamed, trying to drown out the name in my head, the sound joining the Mirror Dragon's shrill cry. But the name still pounded at me, the weight of a dragon's desire behind it. Too strong. Any moment it would be forced out of me.
'I am Eon,' I shouted. 'Eon.'
I pushed harder against the pearl, the power shimmering along the surface of my hands and arms. Then I threw my body backwards. For a second all I felt was tearing pain, then my hands ripped free and I was falling again. Falling into a blackness that gaped with loss and loneliness.
CHAPTER 6
I came to my senses slowly, a dim light penetrating the grey blur of sleep. I opened my eyes wider. A room. But none of the dimensions were familiar; the ceiling was too high, the walls too far away. Someone was chanting — a low hum of entreaty — and the air was scented. It took a moment to place the sweet smell: the special
