Dragon Dance Read Online Free PDF

much chance, fettered and facing an armed opponent, but it would be better to go out fighting.
    He turned to face the guard. The man made a small jab with his dagger, and Simon backed off. If he retreated a bit, then threw himself at him . . . The dagger jerked again, and he retreated another step,and a second. As he tensed muscles, his heel touched something. Glancing round, he saw an open hatch; then lost balance as the guard shoved him. He dropped several feet before he landed, winding himself.
    Brad’s voice said: “Welcome back.”
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    Groggily, Simon got to his feet.
    â€œI take it you also flunked the test,” Brad said.
    Simon rubbed his right knee, which had taken the main impact. “What test?”
    â€œDidn’t he try hypnosis on you, too?”
    â€œOh, that. Sure.”
    â€œBut yours was obviously a shorter session. Maybe my bad reaction put him off. I have a feeling hypnosis could be something they take for granted—it probably ties in with the trance business. It doesn’t tie in with what I thought I knew about ancient China, but neither does trancing. I think we really puzzle him.”
    â€œSo what do you think he’s going to do with us?”
    â€œAs I say, we puzzle him. We’re unusual specimens. Wrong physical appearance, wrong response to hypnosis. If I were him, I’d keep us for study, later.”
    â€œLater? Do you mean, in China?”
    â€œCould be. And we’re only interesting while we’re alive, which means we should get fed and watered. On the other hand, if I have to cross the Pacific on a junk sharing twelve square feet of cabin space with you, I’m going to wind up bored to death or out of my skull.”
    â€œI see what you mean,” Simon said. “And vice versa.”
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    A few hours later, food and water were lowered in pans on the ends of ropes. The food wasn’t exciting—rice with something unidentifiable mixed in—but it satisfied hunger. The next day passed as monotonously. On the third morning, though, a ladder was tossed down, and they climbed it awkwardly into bright sunshine. One of the crew—perhaps the same one—escorted them to the captain’s cabin.
    This time he wore a green robe, embroidered with little red dragons. He spoke in Chinese. When he got no reply, he pointed at Simon and spoke again.
    â€œI think he wants you to say something,” Brad said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œMaybe he just wants to hear what our language sounds like. Say anything.”
    Simon’s mind was a blank. As the Chinese spoke again, more sharply, he suddenly thought of English lessons in school and launched desperately into John of Gaunt’s speech from Richard II. “This land of such dear souls,” he wound up idiotically, “this dear dear land.”
    â€œSpoken like a true Brit,” Brad said. The Chinese was gazing at them with a look of bafflement. “But I wonder . . .”
    He too started reciting. It took Simon a couple of moments to realize he was doing so in Latin, reeling off one of the Christian litanies they had been obliged to learn during their stay in the Bishop’s palace. The Chinese listened closely, then raised a hand.
    â€œLo ma ni?” he asked.
    â€œYes,” Brad said, in Latin. “We come as friends and ambassadors from the Roman people. . . .”
    The readiness of the lie impressed Simon, but it was wasted. A wave of the hand cut Brad short. The hand pointed to a lamp, and a word was spoken. The Chinese looked at them expectantly.
    â€œHe knows about Romans,” Brad said, “but he doesn’t speak Latin. So we’re to learn Chinese.”
    He repeated the word, and the Chinese nodded approval. He then picked up a small bell, rang it, and said something else.
    â€œNow, did that mean ‘the bell’ or ‘the sound of