PART II Chapter 7

The next morning the sky was leaden, with dark grey clouds hanging low over the river and surrounding planes. The wind whipped up waves on the water, and the grit that it blew before it felt as sandpaper on Ashanta's skin. "Will they really come to collect us in this?" she wondered aloud. "It seems that it would have been safer to cross last night."


"I hope that they come," Sharra replied, sounding somewhat doubtful, "for I think that it is unwise for us to stay in one place for too long, and I do not know where else we would cross the river. We could travel back upstream, but then we risk running into the searchers. And if we travel further downstream, then the river becomes larger and more dangerous. There is another large river that joins this further downstream, and we cannot cross the two of them together without a boat."

Lingqui begged the two of them to be patient, saying that he knew the head of the monastery personally, and could vouch that he was a man who was true to his word. "Look," he said, pointing, and the women saw the boat separate from the dock and come slowly across the river to them. At the front of the boat was a sturdy looking man in a dark brown robe. Very monastic looking, thought Ashanta as she watched. But at the back of the boat was a man of an entirely different sort, tallish and thinnish with a long white beard falling almost to his waist, and dressed in a long, red robe with a gold cord hanging around his middle. This second man was standing in the back of the boat, which seemed rather a dangerous position for him to be in, seeing as the river was rough, and the wind strong, but he stood solidly, seemingly immobile even in the face of this difficulty.

It seemed that Lingqui knew this most important looking person in the rear of the boat, for upon sighting him, he stood up and began to wave wildly at he boat. The man on the boat waved back, and when the boat was not yet pulled tight to the dock, the man leaped lightly from the boat and ran across the short distance to the jester, hugging and kissing him affectionately. Ashanta and Sharra looked on, their bewilderment evident on their faces. Grinning broadly, Lingqui turned to the women and said to them, "Let me introduce to you the head of this monastery, whom our parents named Quingli. It was he who founded this place as a haven for travelers and for those seeking sanctuary from injustice."

"Our parents?" Sharra asked wonderingly. "This man is your brother? But—"

"But we look nothing alike?" Lingqui answered, smiling. "We do not, but for that we are twins, and not just brothers. Even as children we looked very different, for I am small and chubby, while my brother is tall and slender and stately looking. But we work together, we two, and I send to him those who need sanctuary and he gives them rest. The king has chosen to, ah, overlook, this aspect of my advisorial role. I fear that he will not overlook the latest instance of it, and that it would be best that we not remain here for long."

"Surely though, there is time for a meal, and for you to tell me somewhat of the events that bring you here," Quingli insisted. "We have risked running afoul of the king's wishes before, and for my brother, I will happily risk it again."

Lingqui looked concerned at this, but he said simply, "Then it is best that we be on our way, so that we may speak together over a repast of some kind. I crave your advice, and, I must admit we have need of your supplies as well."

In short order the monk had rowed them all across the river, though getting the pony across proved quite another matter. He would not willingly enter the water, which, as Sharra pointed out, was probably fortunate in that it meant that the sacks and blankets that he bore did not get wet, but unfortunate in that it meant that they would have difficulty traveling without the pony to carry some of their load. "Leave the pony," Quingli had said, "but move your possessions into the boat with us. We have a pony that you may bring with you, that we found wandering with a hurt foot some weeks ago. He has recovered, and we have no need of him here, so he is yours." So the castle pony had been left on the other side of the river, to wander toward home if he would, or perhaps to be captured and put to work pulling a plow or a cart.

Inside the monastery, Quingli brought them first to a small room with basins of water. "Here you may cleanse yourself from your travels," he said. "I will await you in my chambers, which the child will lead you to."  And he stepped aside, and behind him was a small child; a girl of perhaps four years, who smiled shyly up at them.

I think that I have never seen such a beautiful child, Ashanta thought to herself, and she bent down and said to the girl, "What is your name, child?" but the girl only smiled at her and did not say anything in response.

"She does not speak," Quingli explained. "We do not know if she will not or she cannot. We found her wandering, like the pony, some months ago. She has not spoken since her arrival here, though she seems to understand what we say to her. Now, why do you not refresh yourselves, and then perhaps we may take counsel together."

Ashanta would have liked a proper wash, with a long soak in a tub, but she supposed that she should be grateful for what she had. The king had not been thoughtful enough to ensure that she would be able to wash while in the dungeons. Of course, it would never have occurred to her to think about whether or not the prisoners could wash, and so why should she expect the king to act any differently? The washing, such as was possible under the circumstances, was soon completed, and they followed the child down the hall and into Quingli's chambers.

His room was furnished in a style that was a complete novelty to Ashanta. Velvet cushions surrounded a low table, made of some jet black wood, and on the walls were hung pen and ink drawings of a wide variety of plants and animals and birds. The curtains in the windows were deepest red, and reached from ceiling to floor, falling in swirls and eddies where they were longer than the walls were high. On the table in the center of the room were placed a pot, which Ashanta assumed to be filled with tea, and trays of small bowls filled with rice and chopped vegetables and tiny pieces of meats. There were no forks on the table, or none that Ashanta could see, but she saw that there were pairs of small sticks, perhaps two hands long, and laid out so that they appeared to belong to the meal.

Quingli indicated the table with a wave of his hand, "Let us first be seated and eat, for I believe that you have traveled far, and have perhaps not eaten well. Then I can listen to your stories, and perhaps advise you on the best approach to take." Picking up the pot, he poured tea into cups for each of the travelers, and handed to each of them small bowls of meats and vegetables and rice. Ashanta watched as Lingqui picked up the two sticks that were next to his place and used them to shovel the food into his mouth. She tried to imitate him, and saw that Sharra was doing likewise, but neither of them was very successful. Rice went flying over the table, and the men  could not help but laugh at the looks on their faces. "Would that we had forks here," said Quingli, "but we have found that eating with chopsticks makes our meals more reflective. I can call for spoons if that would make things easier for you."

Ashanta, still giggling at the rice that had gone flying across the room, nodded her thanks, and the child was sent off to the monastery kitchens to retrieve the necessary utensils.  Once the spoons arrived, Sharra and Ashanta made quick work of their food, and soon the four of them were ready to begin. "Would you send the child away?" Ashanta asked Quingli. "Our story is one that must be kept secret, for the preservation of our lives, and for the future of the Shauvrin."

Quingli raised an eyebrow at that, but declined to send the child out. "She cannot talk, or will not, and she will happily run and fetch things for us. If we need her to be sent away for some reason later, I will give her some task to do then. But she has become something of a shadow for me, and if I send her away she will be desperately unhappy. At the monastery, we believe that the misery of a child is a bad omen for any decision that is taken. And now, who will begin the story?"

Sharra and Lingqui looked at Ashanta and nodded, indicating that she should begin the story. She spoke briefly about the dreams that she had had about the dragon and about the prophecy that he had given. She admitted that they, by which she meant Lingqui, Sharra, and she, and discounted the prophecy of the dragon as being merely a dream, until it turned out that she was indeed with child and that there was no other explanation for the pregnancy. She spoke of their fears about the way that King Rafe would react when he learned of the pregnancy, and of their quest to find more evidence of the dragon king, and to find some way out of the dungeon should their fears come to pass and she be imprisoned. She spoke then of her time of imprisonment, and the flight which they had made from the castle under cover of darkness, using what they believed to be the same tunnel that the dragon king had used in his transformation in the very beginnings of time. And then she stopped, and looked at the others to see which of them might choose to continue her tale.

Quingli raised his hand. "I can see that there is more to the story than I have been told thus far, that it continues on to the present time, and even into the future, but before you continue with the story, perhaps I can ask a few questions to aid me in giving fair counsel."

Ashanta nodded agreement. "I will answer as best I can," she said, "and Lingqui and Sharra as well, for we crave wise counsel before we continue."

"You have neglected to tell me what is perhaps the most important part of the story," Quingli said gently, "for you have not told me who you are. I know Lingqui, for he is my brother though I see him but rarely nowadays, but the two of you are unknown to me. It is clear that you must be important persons, for the king does not lower himself to meddle with the pregnancies of commoners, no matter how illustrious their fathers may be."

Ashanta blushed, it had been so natural to fall into the habit of assuming that everyone knew who she was, and Sharra as well, for they had been the most important women in the castle. "I am, or rather was, Queen Ashanta. The king has cast me off as his wife, and so I suppose that I am now just Ashanta, and queen no longer. The woman who is our traveling companion is Sharra, the high priestess, though perhaps the king has seen fit to strip her of her titles and position as well."


Quingli nodded, "So I find my brother in the company of two most important women," he said. "I begin to understand now why secrecy is so important, and why the king would bother to be angered by your pregnancy. I suspect that there is more to the story, but I will not ask of it now. Perhaps now someone would explain to me what aid, other than supplies, which we will gladly supply you, you seek from me."

Sharra spoke now, saying, "We travel to the mount of the dragon, where according to legend the Dragon King has had his residence since the beginnings of time. We will seek the aid of the dragon in protecting his daughter."

"The story of the dragon king is a legend, and it seems that it may be nearer truth than I thought, but what makes you believe that there is a living dragon than can help to protect the babe?"

To this, Sharra replied, "The dragon that appeared to Highness in a dream was also seen flying above the courtyard of the castle on three separate occasions. The first morning, it was seen only by a young child, a boy of about five years, and his testimony was deemed not to be trustworthy. The following morning, the dragon was seen by the castle gatekeeper, who had risen early that his wife might attend the market in the village. He is a wise man, and not much given to flights of fancy. The third and final morning, we three kept watch for the dragon, and Lingqui and Highness fell asleep, we think by some enchantment, for they had drunk much of the tea, but I was watching from the oak grove, and slept not, but saw the dragon in all of his splendor, erupting from the high castle tower and winging his way to the south and east."

"Interesting," said Quingli, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "So it seems that the Dragon King is more than just a legend, buried almost fully in the mists of time. I begin to see now why you would go to his mountain. Continue please."

"We travel to the mountain of the dragon for two reasons," said Lingqui. "The first is that we hope for the protection of the dragon in the last days and weeks of Highness's pregnancy. It will not be long now before she is brought to childbed, I think, and it would be wise that we have a powerful protector in that time. If the babe is indeed the child of the Dragon King, and we three have no reason to doubt it, then the birth may be a time of great power, and strange things beyond our knowledge may take place. I do not know."

"But there is a second reason that we travel to the mount," added Sharra, "and I think that it is known only to the two of us. We will tell you now, and Highness as well, for it is a plan to save her child, but the plan will cause her great pain and suffering. The mountain of the dragon is said to be a place of great power and magic, and so it must be if the dragon has survived there through the centuries. It is my belief, and Lingqui's also, that the best way to keep the child safe from her enemies is to remove her for a time from this era and send her, not just to some other land, where she may be found and killed, but to some other time, where she can grow in some other family. We can then bring her back when the time is right."

Ashanta looked shocked. "You want to take my daughter into some other time!" she said. "Why was I not consulted about this decision? Should I not have a say in what happens to the child of my womb?"

Lingqui shook his head sadly, "I fear not Highness. The child must be kept safe at all costs, and we know of no better way to ensure her safety. We did not discuss it with you, for we were too busy trying to arrange your escape, and mine. The slips of parchment we sent to you were hardly well suited to a proper discussion."

Quingli nodded, "You are taking some risk, you know, for you cannot control what happens to the child in some other time, unless you are there with her."


"We know," replied Sharra, "but we feel that the risk take in sending her out of our time is less than the risk that we take in trying to keep her safe here. There are few from our time who have the knowledge to travel between times themselves, and even fewer who are able to take another with them. She will face only the ordinary dangers faced by a child in another time. In ours, she may be hunted down deliberately, especially if King Rafe becomes aware of her existence."

Ashanta sat listening with a feeling of horror in her chest, but Quingli nodded sagely. "I see that you have done much thinking about this. I see also that this is all very much news to Ashanta, and that she feels that perhaps, as the mother of the child in question, she ought to be given some say in the matter. What say you to that?"

Sharra and Lingqui looked shamefaced. "I thought only of the safety of the child," admitted Lingqui, "and not of the feelings of the mother. But still, it should not much matter how she feels about it, for it is clearly the only way."

"The only way?" Quingli's voice was soft, and somehow, dangerous. Lingqui's answer had clearly displeased him. "You believe that sending the child into some other time is the only way to keep her safe? Perhaps it is one way. Perhaps it is even the best way, the optimal way. But surely it is not the only way." He stood up. "You have come to me for counsel, for advice, and I say to you this: Consider the desires of the mother as well. She was chosen by the Dragon King to carry the child for a reason, and though we know not what it was, it seems likely to have been a good one. Perhaps he desires that she be in the child's life. Perhaps she was chosen because she would be willing to give her child over to the Dragon King to raise. I do not know. But this I do know; you must discuss this again, without prior assumptions, and you must include Ashanta in the decision making. And now, the child will lead you to the apartment that you will share for the evening, out in the courtyard. I suggest that you rest for a while, and then speak together of the future. I will come and join you after supper."

Obediently, the three of them followed the child into the courtyard where she directed them to an apartment with two small sleeping rooms located on either side of a larger sitting area. On the low table in the middle of the sitting area were a tray containing the necessary items for tea, a small basket of rolls, and a bowl of fruit. Sitting down on one of the cushions, Lingqui reached for a piece of fruit. "Shall we begin?" he asked.

But Sharra interrupted, "Your brother bade us to rest before we spoke of the future again, and perhaps we had best heed his advice." And so they went, the three of them, into the bedchambers, and soon all three of them slept deeply.