Two gate officials stepped out from the small guardhouse. They were both of similar height and stiff bearing, but one wore the white robes of mourning to symbolize the waning year, while the other was dressed in shimmering green for the New Year.
“The man in the New Year robes is one of Ido’s supporters,” my master said softly. “He will be a good gauge of how things stand in the council.”
The officials bowed to Bellid and Dillon, who returned the courtesy. Then Bellid gave a carved box to New Year. I glanced down at the casket on my master’s knee. Inside was the traditional tribute for the retiring Dragoneye. Each Heuris paid for the honor of presenting his candidate, softening the blow of lost earnings for the departing lord. But this time there was no old Dragoneye—he had died many years ago, leaving his then- young apprentice, Ido, to serve the Rat Dragon. Presumably Lord Ido would get the tributes. No wonder my master looked pained.
New Year opened Bellid’s offering and studied the contents. They must have been adequate, for the box was closed and taken away by a guard. Bowing again, the two officials stepped back. Heuris Bellid and Dillon walked through the circular gateway to muted cheers from the crowd.
“Forward,” my master ordered.
We moved into position in front of the Portal of the Twelve Heavenly Animals. I had always thought it was the most beautiful gate in the city—even more graceful than the huge Gate of Supreme Benevolence, the entrance to the Imperial Palace. The portal was a complete circle, the twelve dragon animals carved around it in order of the cycle of ascension: Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Rooster, Dog and Pig. The imperial engineers had set the huge carved circle on a system of pulleys and locks so that on the first day of the New Year, Ascension Day, it could be rotated one position, moving the new Dragon of Ascension to the top of the gateway. The Pig Dragon was still in supremacy, but as soon as the Rat Dragon chose its new apprentice, the two gate officials would turn the circle to indicate the beginning of the New Year, and the start of a new twelve-year cycle. A most auspicious day. Nearby, one of the hawker stalls was already baking cinnamon mooncakes for the First Day celebrations, the smell creating the phantom taste of buttery spice on my tongue. My stomach tightened. I should have eaten the bread.
The bearers lowered our palanquin smoothly onto the lift stones. I quickly climbed out of the cabin, glad to be on the ground again, and handed my master down.
“Wait for my summons after the ceremony,” he said, dismissing the team.
Old Year and New Year bowed to us in perfect unison.
“Do you bring one of the twelve who seek to serve the Rat Dragon?” New Year said. His eyes flicked over to me with hostility. Behind us, the murmuring crowd quieted. I felt as though a thousand disapproving eyes were upon me. A Dragoneye was their only way to buy themselves some good fortune; why was a boy of such obvious ill fortune offering himself as a candidate?
My master and I bowed.
“I, Heuris Brannon, bring one who seeks to serve the Rat Dragon,” my master said.
“Then present your tribute to the Dragoneye who has served, who now makes way for the new Dragoneye and the new apprentice,” Old Year said. At least his gaze was neutral.
My master opened the lid of the inlaid box. A heavy gold amulet, worked in the shape of a coiled dragon, lay on smooth black velvet. I sucked in a breath. It had to be worth a fortune; enough to keep the household for months. How did my master manage such a gift? He stared at it for a moment, then straightened his shoulders.
“I present this tribute to the Dragoneye who makes way for the new; may his strength be restored and his life be long.”
He passed the box to New Year, who shot a strange, challenging look at his colleague. Old Year frowned and shook his head slightly.
New Year snapped the box shut. “It is acceptable,” he said curtly, passing it to the guard. “Go through.”
The two officials bowed and stepped back.
“Thank you,” my master said dryly.
We walked slowly through the gate and into a long, dim passageway. Behind us, a huge cheer erupted. For me? I looked back, my heart lifting with the sound. But the gate officials were greeting Heuris Kane and Baret, the crowd favorite. No cheers, then, for the cripple.
“Another of Ido’s minions,” my master said, following my gaze to Kane. “But do not fret, Eon. Ido may be able to bully and buy a following, but even he cannot influence a dragon. And it would seem that his supporters are not inclined to stand against the council. At least for now. We shall see what happens when he ascends.”
Although I wore thin silk, sweat was collecting under my arms and around the waistband of my trousers. My heat had raised the smell of the cleansing herbs again and I longed to scrub off the relentless perfume. Ahead, a half circle of light flickered with passing figures.
We walked out of the cool tunnel into a long chamber lit by lamps fixed along the walls. The smell of sweat and burning sesame oil cloyed the air, and a tense silence amplified the shuffling footsteps of gray-robed officials as they crossed the stone floor. At the far end of the room, the other candidates were kneeling in meditation, their ceremonial swords laid out in front of them, tip to hilt. Three gaps had been left in the row, spaces for Dillon, Baret, and me. In the ballot to determine order of appearance, Swordmaster Ranne had drawn me fourth position—an ill number and probably not drawn by chance. All of the kneeling candidates had their eyes closed, the yellowish light making their faces look like death masks. I shivered, turning to the comfort of the natural light that filtered down a wide ramp in front of me. The way to the bright sands of the arena.