Free Dragon Dance by John Christopher Page A

Lomani emperor, in which the rebels had been aided by their dead god, who gave them an all-powerful weapon and winged horses to carry them into battle. Shaking his head, he said he could believe in the mice in pots, but not so easily in the dead god and his gifts.
    Simon explained that the horses did not have wings, only stirrups permitting men to fight from the saddle, and that the weapon was merely a bow, longer and deadlier than other bows.
    Bei W’ih said: “And with those things, the rebels overthrew an empire which had ruled for two thousand years?” He sounded sceptical. “It is of no importance, anyway. The Western armies are a long way from the borders of the Celestial Kingdom. And arrows are feeble compared with fire darts. As for their horses, even if they were winged they would be no match for our dragons.”
    â€œDragons?” Simon looked at him. “I mean—what are they?”
    â€œDragons are dragons! Have you not seen them in paintings? Winged serpents, with scaly wings and forked tails, that breathe fire.”
    His expression was amused, grinning almost. He clapped a hand on Simon’s arm.
    â€œPerhaps dragons do not breed in the land of the Lomani. But maybe you will have a chance to see ours. There is talk of the barbarians beyond the Wall being troublesome, and they may need chastising. Perhaps you will see our dragons fly.”
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    A routine developed during the days that followed. Without asking, or being asked, they found themselves working in the fields and helping generally around the bonzery. It was not arduous work, and the company was pleasant. They sang a lot, and cheerfulness was the rule.
    They were not invited to take part in religious ceremonies. In the early morning and again at sunset, the priests went to the pagoda and stayed for about half an hour. Individuals went there separately at other times. Simon was a bit surprised, though not unhappy about it, that they were excluded. He mentioned it to Brad: “I thought we were supposed to have been sent here for religious instruction? At least, that’s what Bei Tsu told Cho-tsing.”
    Brad shrugged. “That was the cover story. We know now it was Bei Pen wanted us here.”
    â€œBut what for? To help in the fields? It doesn’t make sense.”
    â€œI suppose it will eventually.”
    â€œThe guards seem to have gone back—and Bei Tsu. As far as I can see, there’s nothing to stop us just walking out.”
    â€œI don’t particularly want to,” Brad said.
    â€œWhat is it you don’t want to walk out on—the bonzery, or Li Mei?”
    Brad did not answer, but neither did he show any sign of rising to the remark. Simon had a feeling he had changed since they had come here. He would have expected him to be more curious about things, more inquiring. In fact, when he himself had tried to talk about the peaches Bei Pen had shown them—something which in the past would have provoked a flood of speculative argument—Brad’s response had been brief and uninterested. Due to mooning after Li Mei, Simon guessed: he sat by her at meals and gravitated towards her generally. But that didn’t really seem to be enough to account for the change.
    Bei Pen was clearly the chief priest, or at least the acknowledged leader of the community. This was indicated by the deference and respect which were shown to him, though it was not made formal in any way. It was an attitude which Simon found himself sharing; but more than that, he became aware of a private feeling of closeness to the man. There were times when he caught himself thinking of Bei Pen almost as though he were his father.
    It was a confusing and slightly bothersome feeling. He had not, in fact, ever felt particularly close to his own father, a man who treated taciturnity as one of the major virtues. It puzzled him, too, because Bei Pen had shown no special interest in