Early on the twelfth day of the New Year — my eighth day of mourning — Lady Dela and I sat in the gloom of my shuttered reception room and waited for the palace herald in front of us to rise from his deep bow and deliver his message.
'Lord Eon,' the man finally said. 'His Highness Prince Kygo approaches on behalf of his most glorious father.'
He offered me a slip of parchment with the Imperial seal. A line of poetry was written under the heavy wax imprint of the royal dragon.
Wives endlessly returning to the shore, bringing renewal and the ghosts of waves before.
Lady Dela studied the paper. 'It's from one of Lady jila's Spring poems,' she whispered. 'His Highness returns the Mirror Dragon treasures to you. Acknowledge the honour of the visit.'
I looked down at the kneeling herald and felt strangely buoyed by the prospect of seeing the Prince. 'Thank His Royal Highness for this great condescension. We await his arrival with joy.'
The herald bowed out of the room.
'I do not think the Emperor would miss this ceremony easily,' Lady Dela said, a small fold of worry between her brows. 'He must still be too ill to leave his bed.' She twitched her shoulders as if rejecting the silent understanding that crouched in the palace: the Emperor was in his last days. 'Call Rilla to prepare for the Prince.'
Under my heavy white sleeve, the red folio shifted, the pearls whispering along my skin.
Perhaps it sensed the arrival of the other treasures. As I sounded the small gong, a trill of laughter and music from a nearby courtyard made us both turn towards the closed doors. The Twelfth Day feasts and celebrations were starting.
'Happy Twelfth Day,' I said to Lady Dela. 'May the year bring you fivefold happiness.'
'Thank you, Lord Eon. And for you too.'
I nodded. Happiness seemed a long way away.
The Peony household had just assembled in the garden courtyard when one of Ryko's guards called the Prince's arrival. I kneeled on a small cushion that Rilla had positioned for me by the path and kowtowed until my forehead skimmed the ground. The boots of the royal guards passed by, and then the soft slippers of the protocol officers. My deep bow was straining my hip into aching weakness. If the Prince did not arrive soon, I would not be able to rise without assistance. Finally, the dusty sandalled feet of the royal litter-bearers approached and stopped in front of me.
'Lord Eon,' the Prince said.
I stiffly pushed myself back onto my heels. The wound to his face was healing well, the bruise fading into dull browns and yellows. He was wearing his official robes — purple silk — and a smaller version of the Imperial pearl on a chain around his neck. An Emperor in waiting.
Behind him, a small pack of courtiers watched us, followed by a double line of servants carrying boxes, brass burners and heavy chests. A cart pulled by four men, with the bureau and carved stools tied to it, brought up the rear.
'Your Highness, thank you for honouring me with this visit.' I smiled, then caught an admonishing glare from a prim-mouthed protocol officer. A smile, it seemed, was inappropriate for the occasion.
'It is my honour to return the Mirror Dragon treasures to you,' the Prince said. 'My father sends his gracious greetings.'
I kowtowed.
'Down,' the Prince ordered the bearers. They promptly lowered the litter, and a waiting servant handed the Prince out. Another kneeled and held up a richly embroidered red pouch.
The Prince took it then bowed to me.
'Lord Eon, for generations my royal forebears have kept the Mirror Dragon treasures safe, waiting for the day when the noble dragon would once again grace the Circle, and a Mirror Dragoneye rejoin the Council. It is my glorious honour to return the treasures that are rightfully yours.'
He held out the pouch. I took it with another deep bow. It was heavy and for a moment I was at a loss as to what was inside. Then its circular shape settled in my hand: the Dragoneye compass. As soon as I recognised it, the folio pearls tightened around my arm. Did they recognise it too? I swept my fingers across the book. The pearls eased their grip, leaving a bruised phantom of their stranglehold.
As was protocol, the Prince entered the Peony apartment and took a bowl of tea with me and Lady Dela. Our conversation was strictly monitored by the dour-faced officials and limited to polite wishes for the New Year and comments about the monsoon predictions. There was a sadness in the Prince's eyes that mirrored my own, but I had no opportunity to offer him the gentle friendship that he had shown me at my master's entombment. The protocol officers were watching us too closely
with their sharp eyes and soft-voiced instructions — the Prince's every move was now governed by tradition and ritual.
Before the half bell rang, the officers quietly signalled the end of the visit. We all kneeled along the pathway again as the Prince was ushered back into his litter, and by the time the bell tolled, the royal entourage was making its slow way towards the royal apartments. I watched its progress, hoping he would look back. The litter was almost through the archway before he turned and raised his hand. I raised my own, but then the protocol officer at his side called him to order.
'So, he is taking on his father's duties,' Lady Dela said, gracefully standing and dusting down her white gown. 'We will be mourning again before long.' She shaded her eyes and looked over at the archway. 'Mourning for the father and fighting for the son.'
'Are you a soothsayer now?' I snapped.
She looked at me, her eyebrows raised. 'Some say so, my lord. But my skill is in reading people not sticks or coins.'
Rilla came bustling towards us. 'My lord, where do you want the treasures stored?'
The line of servants was still waiting to move the furniture and boxes into the apartment.
'Lady Dela will decide,' I said, suddenly wanting to be alone. 'Just bring the red pouch the Prince gave me to the reception room.'
Rilla duly delivered the pouch to me then softly closed the door on the noisy tramp of servants and Lady Dela's sharp directions. I sat in the cool quiet of the reception room, overwhelmed by a sense of excitement.
The compass slid easily out of the pouch and hit my palm with a satisfying weight. I ran my finger over the smooth facets of the round-cut ruby in the centre. It was the size of a thrush egg — worth a small fortune. The pearls suddenly rattled down my arm and out of the end of my sleeve, pulling the folio behind
them into my lap. Gingerly, I poked at the book. Obviously, there was a connection between folio and compass, but what was it? Perhaps they belonged together. I waved the gold disc near the book. Nothing happened. What if the compass was touching it? I pressed metal against leather. Not even a twitch from the pearls. Maybe the compass rearranged the characters into sense. Holding my breath, I flicked the book open to a page and dragged the compass across it. The writing was still incomprehensible.
Frustrated, I stared down at the page then at the etched figures on the compass. My eyes suddenly focused on one character. Hadn't I just seen it in the book? I ran my finger across and compared them. Yes, they were the same. I turned the compass around. One of the other characters was repeated on the page too. They had the same writing. I laughed, jubilation pushing me off the low chair into a clumsy Rat Dragon Second, the pearls swinging out like a victory banner.
Then I stopped. Where did the information get me? I still couldn't read the folio. Or the compass. There was no way to break the code. I chewed my lip. The characters were on both compass and folio — it must be a special Dragoneye writing. Did that mean another lord would be able to read it and teach me the meanings? It made sense. But there was only one Dragoneye I trusted now — Lord Tyron — and he refused to see me until the end of my mourning. A wave of disappointment dropped me back onto the chair. He would not even accept my messenger. The first chance I'd have to show him the compass would be in the carriage on our way to Daikiko Province. Would that give me enough time to decipher the folio before the test? It seemed unlikely. My dragon's name felt as far away from me as ever.
I sat back, slowly combing each page of the folio for matches to the compass. There were quite a few but it
