Read Online Dragon House by John Shors - Free Book Online

voices of his loved ones. Those had gone silent, though he still pleaded for them to speak. Light filtered down upon him. Later, in this same light, he saw their faces. Yet now their faces were like fresh paintings that had been cast into the sea, crushed against rocks by uncaring waves.
    The light evolved, seeping into him, pulling him from the past. He awoke, stirring on his bamboo mat. Now that his dream was over, he found it hard to recall the faces of his family. So many years had passed. Too many.
    Squinting, Sahn searched for his glasses. Even with their aid, the details of his room were unclear. A bright fog seemed to fill the air. This fog stole the clarity from his sight, as if he were looking through a camera that was out of focus.
    Sahn ate a breakfast of cold rice and thin slices of mango. He then tidied his room—watering plants, sweeping the floor, hanging his blanket outside a window to bask in the sun. As he worked he thought about his dream, wondering why his unconscious so often reminded him of what he’d for so long tried to forget.
    Standing in front of a large mirror, Sahn carefully dressed in his uniform. He’d ironed his olive-colored pants and shirt the previous night. He had also shined his shoes, belt, and the wide, black brim of his cap. A yellow star adorned the red ribbon that encircled the lower part of his cap. Sahn was proud of the star, proud that he wore it. The star had defeated a monster.
    Before stepping into the day, Sahn paused in front of his fish tank. Several brown blurs sped about the tank, rising to the surface as he tilted a can of food. He watched the blurs eat, then left his room and locked the door behind him.
    Sahn carried no gun. A black baton hung from his belt. He’d swung it twice in thirty years. As always, Sahn did his best to search the streets for criminal activity. He ignored taxis that darted through traffic lights, as well as scooters that drove the wrong way down busy boulevards. Even though more than a thousand people died each month on his country’s roads, nothing he could do would change that. And so he made it his mission to seek out those involved with crimes he could stop—offenses such as drug trafficking and child prostitution. Yesterday, his commander had told him about a crate of elephant tusks that was rumored to be in the city. Sahn’s beat included Le Cong Kieu Street, which housed scores of antique stores. For years the owners of these stores had paid him a monthly fee, ensuring that he wouldn’t report their stashes of ancient treasures that had been smuggled out of China. Still, even though Sahn turned a blind eye to such dealings, he wouldn’t stand for certain things. And a crate of elephant tusks was such a thing.
    Sahn walked straight and without haste. Soon he was on Le Cong Kieu Street. The power must have gone out, for the antiques stores were unlit. Sahn navigated down the narrow sidewalk. He pretended to peer into the distance, though he could discern only his immediate surroundings. Moving into a darkened shop, he eased his way past piles of silk scrolls and bronze statues. The store’s owner, a young man who seemed perpetually afraid of him, strode in his direction.
    “I am looking for elephants,” Sahn said softly.
    “Elephants?”
    “What dead elephants would be missing.”
    “Captain, I haven’t heard about any ivory. I swear it.”
    Sahn wished he could see the man’s expression. “If you do hear of these elephants, you’ll tell me. You’ll tell me and then I won’t stop by your store for many months.”
    “I will. And I’ll get word to you as fast as possible.”
    “Be careful what you do here,” Sahn warned, gazing into the gloom ahead.
    “Yes, Captain.”
    Sahn stepped out of the shop. The sun brightened the fog before him. Following the line of the sidewalk’s edge, he moved ahead. Most shopkeepers stayed hidden, though several nodded as he passed, looking up from newspapers or antiques that they were