Read Online DAC 3 Precious Dragon by Liz Williams - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Liz Williams
Tags: Science-Fiction
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she noticed a smaller door, off to the left, sandwiched between the columns of the portal and the edge of the doorway itself. This door was ajar. How stupid of me, Mrs Pa thought. Her hands were balled into fists in her pockets. Even in the dream, the thought occurred to her: When I was a young woman, I wouldn't have had the nerve to do this. This was what suffering and loss did, in the end: it gave you a strength you never knew you had. Thinking of her daughter, she stepped into the temple.
Inside, Sulai-Ba was airy and quiet. There was a strong saline smell, the smell of the sea marshes along the delta, and a familiar undernote which Mrs Pa had trouble identifying. Then she realized that it reminded her of the meat market on the pier: the same salty, bloody reek. Familiarity gave her courage. She was standing between two enormous columns which ascended into the cavernous roof. Before her, were a series of connected pools: the cistern reservoirs. The dark water lapped gently against the stone. Mrs Pa walked round the cistern into the adjoining hall, and stopped short with a gasp.
In the middle of the hall, sprawled across the stone floor, lay a carcass. It was almost bare of flesh: the ribcage arched white and ghostly in the half-light, tapering off into the knobbly vertebrae, and the long skull, with its large eye sockets and sharp hunter's teeth, lay patiently on the floor, like a dog resting its head on the carpet. What was it? A dragon, surely. It could be nothing else.
Within the skeleton, something moved. Mrs Pa, thinking resolutely of all the times she had visited the meat market, walked toward it. She came round the end of the carcass to where the pointed bones of the tail snaked over the floor. From this angle, she was able to see into the ribcage. A solemn pair of eyes regarded her. Mrs Pa drew a sharp breath.
The child was so much like Mai at that age: the same serious eyes under the same thatch of black hair. Mrs Pa swallowed. The child's cheek bulged outward; he was sucking on something. He tucked it into his mouth and said, "Grandmother?" He got to his feet and toddled forward, ducking his head even though the bones arced high above him. Mrs Pa crouched, with difficulty, so as to be on the same level.
"Your mother told me where to find you," she said. Her voice sounded old and thin, quavery, and she spat into her handkerchief to clear her throat. "She didn't tell me your name." She tried hard not to sound accusing.
"I haven't got one yet. This one—" he gestured toward the bones "—died, but it did not leave me a name. Maybe you could give me one?" He was very articulate for his age, Mrs Pa considered . . . How old was he, this strange spirit child? She thought hard. She supposed she ought to give him his father's name, but it sounded too prosaic, somehow. Then, in her mind, she saw the boat that had brought Mai and Ahn to their wedding, sailing out of the salt darkness with its crimson sails hanging in wind-blown tatters.
"Precious Dragon!" she said. This produced an alarmingly big smile. "Do you like that name? All right, Grandson. Precious Dragon it is, then." She was conscious of a sudden, inexplicable relief. "Shall we go home?" The little boy nodded, and stepped forward to take her hand. He was nicely dressed, she noticed, in a puffy cotton jacket and trousers. His hand was reassuringly warm. "Come on, now."
Quickly, she took him out through the little door, closing it behind them. Outside on the steps of Sulai-Ba, the sunlight seemed to blaze, brightness consuming the air after the shadowy silence of the temple. The world seemed suddenly hot and real. Mrs Pa blinked. She looked down at the child, who smiled.
"Am I still dreaming?" she asked, unsure.
"No. You never were dreaming. The spell brought you to Sulai-Ba. You're really here."
"This is real?" Suddenly she was trembling and afraid. Reassuringly, Precious Dragon took hold of her hand.
"It's all right," he said.
Holding
Inside, Sulai-Ba was airy and quiet. There was a strong saline smell, the smell of the sea marshes along the delta, and a familiar undernote which Mrs Pa had trouble identifying. Then she realized that it reminded her of the meat market on the pier: the same salty, bloody reek. Familiarity gave her courage. She was standing between two enormous columns which ascended into the cavernous roof. Before her, were a series of connected pools: the cistern reservoirs. The dark water lapped gently against the stone. Mrs Pa walked round the cistern into the adjoining hall, and stopped short with a gasp.
In the middle of the hall, sprawled across the stone floor, lay a carcass. It was almost bare of flesh: the ribcage arched white and ghostly in the half-light, tapering off into the knobbly vertebrae, and the long skull, with its large eye sockets and sharp hunter's teeth, lay patiently on the floor, like a dog resting its head on the carpet. What was it? A dragon, surely. It could be nothing else.
Within the skeleton, something moved. Mrs Pa, thinking resolutely of all the times she had visited the meat market, walked toward it. She came round the end of the carcass to where the pointed bones of the tail snaked over the floor. From this angle, she was able to see into the ribcage. A solemn pair of eyes regarded her. Mrs Pa drew a sharp breath.
The child was so much like Mai at that age: the same serious eyes under the same thatch of black hair. Mrs Pa swallowed. The child's cheek bulged outward; he was sucking on something. He tucked it into his mouth and said, "Grandmother?" He got to his feet and toddled forward, ducking his head even though the bones arced high above him. Mrs Pa crouched, with difficulty, so as to be on the same level.
"Your mother told me where to find you," she said. Her voice sounded old and thin, quavery, and she spat into her handkerchief to clear her throat. "She didn't tell me your name." She tried hard not to sound accusing.
"I haven't got one yet. This one—" he gestured toward the bones "—died, but it did not leave me a name. Maybe you could give me one?" He was very articulate for his age, Mrs Pa considered . . . How old was he, this strange spirit child? She thought hard. She supposed she ought to give him his father's name, but it sounded too prosaic, somehow. Then, in her mind, she saw the boat that had brought Mai and Ahn to their wedding, sailing out of the salt darkness with its crimson sails hanging in wind-blown tatters.
"Precious Dragon!" she said. This produced an alarmingly big smile. "Do you like that name? All right, Grandson. Precious Dragon it is, then." She was conscious of a sudden, inexplicable relief. "Shall we go home?" The little boy nodded, and stepped forward to take her hand. He was nicely dressed, she noticed, in a puffy cotton jacket and trousers. His hand was reassuringly warm. "Come on, now."
Quickly, she took him out through the little door, closing it behind them. Outside on the steps of Sulai-Ba, the sunlight seemed to blaze, brightness consuming the air after the shadowy silence of the temple. The world seemed suddenly hot and real. Mrs Pa blinked. She looked down at the child, who smiled.
"Am I still dreaming?" she asked, unsure.
"No. You never were dreaming. The spell brought you to Sulai-Ba. You're really here."
"This is real?" Suddenly she was trembling and afraid. Reassuringly, Precious Dragon took hold of her hand.
"It's all right," he said.
Holding
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