her arms. 'Wait until you see the Emperor's birthday feast next month. It goes for three days and nights.'
I slowly pushed myself up onto my feet. The far screen door slid open and two maids hurried out. One wiped my forehead with a cool damp cloth, the other offered me a cup of minted water. I rinsed my mouth and spat onto the grass. If I did not find my dragon's name soon, I would not live long enough to see the Emperor's feast.
CHAPTER 9
The next morning, I was woken by Rilla pulling back the bedchamber shutters. Dull pre-dawn light made the room a landscape of grey shadows, the flicker of red embers in the brazier the only flare of colour.
'Feeling better?' she asked.
I rolled onto my back and blinked away the blur of sleep. New shapes in the corner of the room slowly focused into a small altar — floor cushion, offering bowls, incense sticks, death plaques. I had not even noticed it last night; exhaustion had plunged me straight into a dreamless abyss. At least that deep weariness was now gone, but I was still floating in a warm lethargy. I stretched out my arms and legs, pushing past the sharp catch in my hip.
'Much better. Thank you.'
And then I remembered — I didn't have his name.
I sat up, all lazy comfort gone. Rilla crossed over to the brazier and lifted the water pot off the heat.
'I've got the tea ready' she said, pouring water into a waiting bowl. 'Do you think you can manage some food too?'
My stomach lurched then settled into a hollow ache. 'Maybe a little bit.'
I didn't have his name and no one must know. Not even my master or Rilla. Not yet, anyway.
Rilla whisked the tea then carefully carried it to the bedside table.
'Drink that up and I'll be back in a minute,' she said, heading to the door.
'Can you make it something plain?' I asked.
'No duck, I promise,' she said, smiling. The door closed.
I leaned back against the headboard. Even though the ghost-maker's tea was an arm's-length away, its dank smell was making my stomach turn. I picked it up and stared into the murky liquid. I had to think of some way to find my dragon's name.
Where did one look for the unknowable? Even if I wanted to risk asking someone, there was no one to ask — who would have the Mirror Dragon's secret name except the Mirror Dragoneye? No, the only one who knew the dragon's name was the dragon. And since I did not have his name, I could not call him in order to ask him his name.
I blew on the tea and drank the bowl in one long gulp, clenching my teeth against the vile taste and heat.
And now, whenever I saw the Mirror Dragon, he was shrouded in mist. I couldn't even feel his presence.
Except last night.
The thought made me sit up straight. When Lord Ido was trying to charm me, something had pulled me into my mind-sight. It must have been the red dragon — what else could it have been? He was calling me.
Was that possible? I had never heard of such a thing. But then I still knew very little about the ways of the dragons. Perhaps he was just waiting for me to merge into mind-sight. Waiting to give me his name. I set the bowl down and propped myself back against the headboard.
Breathing deeply I tried to relax my body
Tried to narrow my mind's-eye and concentrate on the energy world. But my muscles twitched, my hip ached and my mind skittered between hope and fear. It was like trying to find rest on a bed of thorns.
The last time I had seen the red dragon was in the warm quiet of the bathing room. Maybe another bath would help me see him again.
Rilla sloshed a bucketful of water over my shoulders.
'They say taking too many baths can weaken the body' she said caustically I shifted impatiently on the stool, pleating the loincloth between my fingers. 'I'll go and soak now.'
'But I haven't done your arms and legs.'
'They're not dirty'
Ignoring the stiffness in my hip, I shuffled across the tiles to the bath and sloshed down the steps, wading quickly through the warm water to the sitting ledge. Rilla crossed her arms, watching me with a frown.
'Is everything all right?'
I found the seat and settled back, leaning my head against the edge as I had done yesterday
'You can go now,' I said.
She blinked at the dismissal. 'Well, I'll be back on the half bell, then,' she said, picking up the buckets. 'Otherwise you'll be late for the Prince.' At the door, she looked back at me. Are you sure you're all right?'
I nodded, closing my eyes until I heard the click of the latch.
With a deep sigh, I lowered myself further into the water until it lapped around my chin. The warmth was working its way into my bones. I glanced around the edge of the bath: no sign of the dragons. The steam was leaving a taste of ginger on my tongue that cut through the bitter residue of the ghost-maker's tea. I stared at the mosaic of Brin, the river god, on the far wall and counted my
breaths. On the tenth exhale, I felt my vision blur as my mind's-eye reached towards the flow of Hua in the room. A slight pulse of energy beat at me, rippling across my skin. Around me, large shadowy forms moved and dark eyes watched. I pushed deeper into the energy. Like the creep of sunlight across shade, the circle of ghostly silhouettes brightened into the solid rainbow bodies of the dragons. All of them, except one. No red dragon. I pushed away the heavy disappointment and took a deep breath, inching along the Hua, feeling for the Mirror Dragon, my focus on the gap in the circle. The steam shivered and swirled. Gathered form: dark eyes, red muzzle, gold pearl. All swathed in a dense haze.
'I don't have your name,' I said. My voice echoed around the room. 'I don't have your name.'
The huge eyes looked through me.
'Please, what is your name?'
I stood up. Perhaps I needed to touch the pearl again. Stretching out my hands, I waded forwards. But each step I took thickened the mist around him until he was almost obscured by a wall of fog. I stopped at its edge. The faint outline of the pearl glowed through the opaque barrier. I reached up for it, but instead of touching a hard surface, my hand passed through air.
The dragon was not solid. I thrust both hands through, raking the mist. Nothing.
'What do you want? What do I need to do?' I pleaded.
A whiptail of memory flicked at me — my hands fused to a pulsing pearl, and a dragon's desire peeling back layers to a buried name, the name I could not risk shouting. Did he want that name before he would give his own? I glanced around the room. I knew there was no one else there, but I had not spoken the name in four years. My master had forbidden it, and I had trained myself not to say it, not to think it, not to remember it. The name belonged to another person in another life.
I leaned closer.
'Eona,' I whispered.
I stared into the mist, holding my breath. Nothing. The dragon was still shrouded in fog. I let out my breath in a hiss of despair.
Just as I pulled back, I saw a small gap open in the mist. The thick covering was separating into thin streamers that paled then disappeared. The colours of the dragon slowly sharpened into clarity: the lustre on the gold pearl, the fire of the orange and scarlet scales.
It was working.
'Eona,' I whispered again. I reached up for the pearl, shivering with excitement. 'Please, what is your name?'
But once more my hand passed through the gold orb. I groped into air over and over again.
