taste enhanced by the sesame. Beside me, Dillon was staring at a duck dish, his fingers gripping the edge of the table.
'My lord, can you assist Apprentice Dillon?' Lady Dela asked between mouthfuls.
I signalled to our server who promptly spooned duck onto his plate.
'Just tell them what you want,' I told him, feigning confidence.
He licked his lips nervously 'Look at it all.'
I grinned, trying to coax some ease from him. 'We are surely blessed, hey?'
His smile did not quite reach the shadowy pain in his eyes. I had seen that look before on the few occasions he had been beaten by Heuris Bellid.
'How is it?' I asked him softly, nodding towards his new master. Lord Ido had his back to us, talking to the Dragoneye beside him.
The shadows deepened. As you say, we are surely blessed.' He picked up his wine bowl and drained it again.
'I am glad to hear it.'
Under the table, I pressed my foot against his leg. He returned the pressure, his eyes blinking rapidly. It seemed we had both stepped into treacherous situations.
'Lord Eon, allow me to recommend the pea-cakes,' Lady Dela said, claiming my attention.
In between eating the next three courses — an array of soups followed by lobster then scallops — Lady Dela offered a low-voiced commentary on the Dragoneyes at the table. Lord Tyron, sitting next to Lord Ido, was the Ox Dragoneye and an Emperor's man. I leaned back in my seat to look at him: thickset for a Dragoneye with deep troughs that ran from nose to mouth, He was next in the cycle of ascendancy and so would retire in favour of his apprentice at the end of the year. Next down the line, and in order of ascendancy, was Lord Elgon, the Tiger Dragoneye. Definitely a follower of Ido, Lady Dela whispered.
He was long-faced, with a prominent jaw and flat nose that gave him the appearance of a shovel. Lord Elgon would have been apprenticed to my master when he was the Tiger Dragoneye, but I had never heard my master speak of him. Beside Elgon was the Rabbit Dragoneye, Lord Silvo. A pale handsome man; the drain of his vocation had pared down his face into classic planes and angles. A fence-sitter, Lady Dela said. Always trying to make peace between the factions. We had just got to Lord Chion, the Snake Dragoneye, when a young eunuch in the black livery of the harem appeared at Lady Dela's side. He bowed and presented a scroll sealed with wax and decorated with jade beads hanging from the end sticks.
She pulled the scroll apart and scanned it.
'Does my lady wish to reply?' he asked.
'No.' She waved him away and read the scroll again. 'Well,' she said with a frown, 'this will stir things up. I only hope they don't blame the messenger.'
I glanced at the flowing characters on the paper, but didn't recognise any of them. 'What is it?'
'Lady jila's poem for the competition.' She placed the scroll on the table. 'Naturally, she can't present it to the court herself, so she has asked me to read it. I translated her book of verse last summer and it was a great success.'
'What language is it? Is she from the Eastern Tribes?'
'No, no.' She leaned closer and whispered, 'It's in Woman Script.'
'In what?'
Lady Dela smiled at the look on my face. 'It's very old. Passed from mother to daughter. I think it started as away for women to write to each other. To express their feelings. Nothing very learned, of course, but since we are not allowed men's letters, it is a way for us to share our thoughts.' She paused, looking down at the scroll. And our loneliness.'
In my mind, I saw a fleeting image of a woman drawing in the sand with a stick, carving out the strokes of a character, her arm
around my shoulders. My mother? I let go of the memory and sat back. A Dragoneye lord would not have anything to do with women's writing. Or women's thoughts and fears.
'Tell me about Lord Chion,' I said.
Lady Dela picked up the scroll and pushed it into her sleeve, unfazed by my abruptness.
'He is one to watch,' she said. 'The Snake Dragon is the Keeper of Insight, and Lord Chion is as sharp as they come.'
I glanced down the table. All I could see of him was a long hand cradling a wine bowl. If he could see through pretence, then I would do well to avoid him.
'Where do his loyalties lie?'
She tilted her head towards Lord Ido.
The next in the line was Lord Dram, the Horse Dragoneye. Lady Dela opened her fan and waved it comically in front of her face. The Horse Dragon was the Keeper of Passion, she said, pretending to pant, and Lord Dram was very serious about it. I caught a glimpse of his vivid face as he sat back in his seat laughing; there was more energy in him than the others, although he did not have the vigour of Lord Ido. An Emperor's man, Lady Dela added, but not much use since he did not have the respect of the other Dragoneyes.
The next course was being served. Chicken, prepared in all ways, served with large bowls of wild rice. I poked at my serving of feet fried in batter. My stomach was so stretched that the sick feeling had turned into pain. Dillon had stopped eating too, but was still draining his wine bowl every time it was filled by the server.
'Do you know, I have never eaten scallops before,' he said. 'Or lobster. I didn't like the lobster.
Did you like the lobster? I didn't like it.' He was having trouble focusing on my face.
' It's very rich,' I said.
Dillon nodded, too many times. 'Rich. You're right. Everything is rich.' He suddenly giggled.
'We're rich.'
Lady Dela tapped her fan on my arm. 'Look. Over there.'
Four musicians had kowtowed into the centre of the room, followed by a troupe of twelve men, each dressed as one of the animals in the cycle. The famous Dragon Dancers — I had heard of them, but they never performed outside of the palace. The dancer dressed in the red of the Mirror Dragon bowed before me, his elaborate robe rippling with silver beads worked into the shapes of scaled skin and ending in a long train.
The first notes of the pipe music shivered across the room, stilling the conversation. Then the dancers began to move, their bodies taking on the characteristics of their animal. They danced the cycle; enacting the sacred duty of the Dragoneye to protect and nurture the land and its people. I gasped as they made rain fall with fine silver streamers, changed the flow of rivers with bolts of blue silk, and stilled winds made of sheer muslin. And then, in turn, each dancer twirled and leaped alone, bringing into movement the virtue kept by their dragon animal.
When it was the red dancer's turn, he was joined by another in an identical costume, and they twirled and leaped in harmony, a perfect mirror image of each other. They were dancing Truth. My dragon was the Keeper of Truth. The irony made me shift in my chair.
At the end of the performance, the room erupted with shouts and clapping. I stamped my feet along with everyone else, showing our appreciation to the dancers by shaking the floor beneath them. As they bowed out of the room, the servers moved into place, quietly setting down the first sweet course. Pastries awash in cane syrup, candied nuts, sugared plums, fresh berries, tiny cakes and bean buns.
'Honey' Dillon yelled, grabbing one of the dripping combs straight from the serving plate. He waved the delicacy at me. 'Look, Eon, honey'
There was a loud crack — bone hitting bone. Dillon's head jerked back.
'You forget yourself, Apprentice,' Lord Ido hissed, his arm still raised from the sweep of the backhander. A thick blue vein was throbbing down the centre of his forehead.
Dillon crouched in the chair. 'I'm sorry, my lord. I'm sorry Please, I'm sorry'
'Don't apologise to me. Apologise to Lord Eon.'
Dillon scrabbled around to face me, bowing low. 'My lord, forgive me.'
I stared at his pale nape and small child ears. Below his bowed head, blood was dripping onto the floor, mixed with the honey that oozed from the comb still in his hand. I felt Lady Dela nudge me in the back.
'I have taken no offence,' I said quickly.
'Get some cloth; clean this up,' Lord Ido ordered one of the servers. And you,' he jabbed a forefinger into
