Read Online Dragon Dance by John Christopher - Free Book Online Page B

strength.
    â€œPeace, and the mingling of minds . . . peace, and the mingling of minds . . .”
    He was aware of a second voice and realized it was his own, echoing: “Peace, and the mingling of minds . . .”
    Then it happened. It was not so much a voice in his mind now as a mind in his mind. No words were spoken, but the message was clearer and surer than speech.
    â€œFriend, you are welcome at the Bonzery of Grace.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Brad’s hand on his arm wakened Simon. He asked: “What time is it?”
    â€œMorning, or near enough. It’s beginning to get light outside.”
    â€œYou’ve been out?”
    â€œJust to look.”
    â€œNo sign of anyone?”
    â€œNo.”
    The recollection hit him as he got up. He asked Brad: “Did you dream during the night, by any chance?”
    â€œMusic,” Brad said. “Hands—a girl’s voice. Peace, and the mingling of minds.”
    Simon shook his head. “Not a girl.”
    Brad shrugged. “I’m telling you my dream.”
    â€œAnd a sort of telepathic welcome at the end?”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œIt must tie up. Dreams don’t come in duplicates. What sort of weird stuff goes on here?”
    Brad did not answer, which Simon found slightly surprising after his nagging questions the previous evening. He had an odd look—remote but relaxed, happy.
    The sound of footsteps came from the corridor, and they both turned towards the door. Now, Simon thought, there might be some explanation.
    The man who came in was in his fifties. He wore a simple blue tunic which left his arms and lower legs bare. Except for his face, he looked like a peasant, but the face had wisdom and authority.
    A second figure entered with him, and Simon stared harder. It was a girl in her midteens, dressed as simply, but very beautiful.

6
    T HE PLATEAU COVERED PERHAPS FIFTY acres, and was unequally divided by an avenue leading from the main buildings. To the left there were fields, with crops under cultivation; the smaller area on the right extended to the cliff’s edge and featured ornamental gardens and pools and a number of greenhouses. At the end of the avenue stood a pagoda; straightforwardly Chinese except that it was approached through a columned portico.
    The man’s name, they had been told, was Bei Pen, the girl’s Li Mei. Simon and Brad went with themdown a path through a shrubbery to an open space where there was a pool filled by a small waterfall. Troutlike fish flapped against the current, and Simon noticed a crayfish crawling among rocks at the bottom.
    It was a bright morning; although the surrounding foothills were heavy with cloud, the peak of the mountain was sharp against a blue sky broken only by a few drifting puffs of white. A rustic bridge spanned the pool. It only needed a couple of doves hovering above it, Simon thought, to look like the design on a willow pattern plate. The sense of wild improbability he had felt on first seeing the bonzery came back.
    Bei Pen said: “There are probably many questions you will wish to ask.” Neither replied, and after a moment he went on: “Then let me question you. What do you know of the Laws of Bei-Kun?”
    Simon waited for Brad to respond; this was his sort of situation. Eventually he himself said: “Not much. I know they’re to do with the two minds, first mind and second mind, and the law of suggestion. And Bei Tsu mentioned other laws—far movement, far speaking. . . .”
    Brad broke in: “Was that far speaking last night, when Li Mei seemed to be talking inside my head?”
    Li Mei smiled slightly. She had high broad cheekbones, dark glossy hair tied back to show pretty ears, a golden skin flushing to rose. She was nothing like the women in Li Nan. And she did not teeter along in the preposterous lily walk. Her sandalled feet were small but