Despite his fatigue, Song could not sleep for the questions swirling in his head. Could it be true? Were Grandfather’s stories all true? Had he really descended from Zumari, the first man Mutan had fashioned with a touch of his hand? But Zumari must have countless descendants. Out of such a multitude, how had the priceless heirloom passed to him?
He had asked that very question of Grandfather, but the man would say no more.
The sun traveled high in the sky before Song awoke the next morning. Feeling refreshed, he worked for several hours in and around the forest clearing. But Grandfather, whose hands were seldom idle, lounged in the shade of the chestnut tree.
“Have you solved the riddle, Grandfather?” Song asked, coming to sit beside him.
The old man looked up. “Riddle? What riddle?”
Song smiled. “The one written in the bark of the chestnut. You have spent three hours staring into it.”
Grandfather relaxed and chuckled. “I am expecting visitors today.”
“But you sent for help only three days ago. That is hardly time enough to travel from the nearest villages, even if you sent word by the swiftest runners.”
“I did not send a runner. They will come.”
The old man did rouse himself to prepare the noon meal, but afterward settled again into his chosen place, keeping watch over the village path. He was, therefore, the first to spot their visitor.
But it was not an expected guest. It was Asito, Lord Dolisu’s captain.
The man took in every detail of the clearing in one sweeping glance before bowing in front of Grandfather. “Life and good fortune to you, Honored One.” He clasped his sword hilt in salute. “My master requests the presence of your grandson this afternoon.”
“Then it is he, not I, you must speak with. He is there, in the garden.”
Asito planted his feet just outside the tilled earth and called to Song. “The manor echoes this day with rumors of you. Will you come? My master is most eager to speak with you.”
Song knew it was not a choice. No one refused Lord Dolisu. His hands began to sweat. “I will come.”
He leaned the hoe against the hut, and Grandfather rose stiffly to his feet. “If you would wait only a moment,” he asked of Asito, “I will pack a small meal for the boy.”
“He will be well-tended,” the soldier countered.
Grandfather bowed. “Please extend my gratitude for your master’s generosity. Even so, the boy has worked hard, barely stopping for a morsel at noon. I will fetch him something to give him strength.”
Asito nodded, and the old man shuffled into the hut. He returned with a hemp bag that he thrust into Song’s hands.
Puzzled, for his noon meal had been both relaxing and sustaining, Song peered inside. The parcel contained a small loaf, some dried jujubes—and his father’s box.
Wisely, Song pulled out the bread to eat on his walk and tied the bundle around his waist, keeping the box discreetly hidden against the folds of his tunic.
During the walk to the manor, Song’s thoughts kept pace with his steps. Lord Dolisu would wish to speak about the events in the valley, but his daughter was so unpredictable. She had been spellbound by the dragon and seemed distracted after her rescue. He feared to recall the words he had yelled at her in the heat of excitement. What had she told her father?
Passing into the manor was twice as frightening without the reassuring presence of his grandfather. The splendor of its furnishings seemed to emphasize the plainness of Song’s simple tunic and bare feet. He did not belong here among these great ones.
Without expression, Asito showed Song into an empty room and closed the door behind him. The room, though small, was hung with two beautiful silk paintings, and the corner opposite the door held a large porcelain vase.
The door opened and a stately, heavyset man entered wearing a robe of liquid silk. Though he had never met him, Song had no doubt this was the wealthy lord. He bowed over shaking knees. “Long life and good fortune, sir.”
Lord Dolisu placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Please stand, my friend. According to my daughter’s story, it is I who should bow in gratitude to you.” He pulled Song to his feet.
Lord Dolisu’s daughter had followed him into the room. “Nori,” her rescuers had called her. She stood now at her father’s side, gracing Song with the full favor of her smile.
Song felt his cheeks grow warm.
Nori, he thought to himself. Beauty. The name fit her perfectly.
“Is it true then, that you saved my daughter from the dragon?” the lord asked.
Song tore his eyes away from Nori, but he could not bring himself to look the great man in the face. Instead, his eyes rested at the tip of the man’s long beard, which he addressed. “I—I just pulled her away. I did not—” He stopped in confusion and stared at his feet.
Amusement crept into the voice of Lord Dolisu, though it was not unkind. “It is as I have been told then, Grandson of the Bard. Such a great service does not go unnoticed. In token of my deep gratitude, please accept this.”
He removed a golden chain from his own neck and placed it around Song’s. From it dangled a bright, round charm studded with tiny rubies.
“This emblem is embossed with my family seal. May it remind you how my family is forever indebted to you for your bravery. It is justly earned.”
Song fingered the delicate seal. On it was a tiny star surrounded by the curved blade of a sickle. The unaccustomed weight, though slight, felt heavy around his neck. Proudly, he let the seal rest against his chest.
“Unfortunately, I am called away to settle a dispute among my officers, but my daughter wishes to offer you her own appreciation. She has arranged a meal.” He gestured to a low table set with porcelain dishes and two thick cushions placed on the floor on either side of it. “Please, be seated and I will send in the servants.”
Before he opened the door, Lord Dolisu bowed low. “Thank you, Song Wei.”
Nori took her place on one of the cushions. With another inviting smile, she gestured for Song to join her. He did so awkwardly, but she took no notice. She acted neither aloof, as in the cave, nor snobbish, as at the river and the fountain.
“You were terribly brave yesterday,” Nori complimented him. “When I saw that monster swooping out of the sky, I was so frightened I could not move. I was completely frozen. But you ran down the mountain screaming like someone out of your grandfather’s stories. The next thing I realized, we were in that cave.”
Song listened as one entranced. She was lovelier than the mountain in full bloom. He felt lowly and bumbling beside her, but at the same time, his skin tingled with her lavish praise.
The servants began to file in with platters of food.
“I hope you like roast peacock,” she stated. “I have asked the chef to serve it stuffed, with plum sauce.”
Song had never even tasted roast peacock.
“And there is poached salmon, lemon wolfberry tarts, fried…”
He listened as she chattered on and on, taking occasional bites of the rich food. But he barely noticed the taste. She was so different than the other times they had met. So warm. So appealing. Like a completely different person.
Abruptly, Nori pressed both of her hands over her mouth, stifling a giggle. Throwing her head back, she allowed merry laughter to fill the room and ring off the walls. “What a sight we must have been, dashing blindly up the mountain! Was it not glorious?”
Glorious? He recalled the terror and threat of the moment. “It was a nightmare,” he stated.
She didn’t seem to hear. Her eyes lit again with the same expectation he had witnessed in the meadow. “You were like a hero of old, a warrior fighting for the hand of his lady. The way you faced that dragon without flinching was simply remarkable! Not one of my father’s soldiers could have matched it!
“How did you do it?” she asked, leaning forward eagerly. “How did you drive the dragon off?”
Apprehension rose within Song. He could not share the secret of his father’s box. But what had she seen? How much had she figured out already?
“I am not sure,” he evaded. “It all happened so suddenly. I suppose the dragon was not used to being challenged.”
“But surely you knew you could best him before you ran into the field,” she prompted, her eyes gleaming.
“I never stopped to think about what might happen.”
“You held something up,” she pressed. “What was it?”
Her eyes bored into his, and he squirmed under pressure. “It was just a—a stick. A block of wood. I am not sure. I just grabbed the first thing my hand touched,” he lied.
Her eyes narrowed in disbelief, but she quickly masked her displeasure. “Do you know what I think?” she asked with a coy smile. “I think you and the dragon are the answers to the wishes I floated downriver. Do you remember them? One for excitement, and one for danger.”
Song looked up, horrified at being included in such an awful pairing but flattered that she found him a fulfillment to her hopes.
“And to think we met that very day, that very moment, but I did not realize what you were. Oh, I was unpleasant to you!” She laughed again, not in apology but in amusement.
“And now, a few days later, here you are eating with me, enjoying the favor of my father, and wearing my family seal.”
Much had happened since that day at the river. Song lifted the golden emblem to his eyes. “It looks so familiar,” he mumbled.
“It is on all of my father’s ships. Surely you have seen it a thousand times.”
“What does it mean? Is there a story behind it?”
She shrugged. “If there is, I do not know it. Your grandfather is the storyteller.”
“Grandfather always teaches with stories. But I am not sure I always believe them.”
She rolled her eyes. “I should hope not. But they are entertaining. Far more than others I have heard.”
Nori kept up a lively stream of conversation throughout the entire meal, and Song hung on her words. Only after the dishes were cleared did she stand up to walk him to the door of the manor.
She smiled warmly at him again. “You amuse me, Song Wei. I think we shall be great friends.” And with that, she left him alone at the door.
Song was greatly encouraged by her simple statement. This beautiful daughter of a mighty lord desired his friendship! It was beyond a dream!
He made his way down the garden path to the massive gate with its guards. Asito stood apart from his fellows, his sharp eyes watching the boy approach, though his face gave away no emotion.
“Do you go home tonight to your grandfather, young one?” the captain asked, breaking into Song’s rosy thoughts.
“Of course,” Song answered with some surprise. As always, those eyes seemed to see through him.
Asito leaned forward, speaking low. “Then take heed. Your grandfather may be other than he appears.”