Prayer of the Dragon Read Online Free PDF Page A

gray-haired villagers, introduced as the village elders, two men and the woman in the black dress who had first given Shan tea. Although Chodron fastidiously performed his obligations as host, filling their cups one more time, all warmth had left his face. “Seldom do we receive visitors,” the headman said. “You have honored us. But as you see, we are beginning our harvest. Every hand must be lifted to the work.” He was inviting them to leave.
    “Then it is fortunate my friends and I are here, so we can care for the stranger in the stable, freeing others for their tasks,” Shan replied impassively.
    “You mean the murderer in our jail.” The deference Chodron had previously shown Shan was gone.
    The elders said nothing. One stared into his bowl of tea. The woman, her hands clasped in her lap, chewed absently on a piece of dried cheese, glancing repeatedly at Shan before looking away.
    “It is a terrible responsibility, to sit in judgment of others,” Shan said.
    “I will not flee from my duty,” Chodron shot back.
    “He is ill. When he awakens he may not be able to speak for himself.”
    Chodron silently rose, entered the rear door of his house, and returned a moment later with a small wooden chest that he set on the ground by the fire. The headman extracted a cloth bundle from within, then unfolded it on the ground in front of Shan. “We already know the blackness of his deeds.”
    He displayed a hammer, a modern rock hammer, one end blunt and square, the other extending in a long, slightly curving claw. There was still enough light for Shan to see the dried blood and small gray flecks on the claw. “His hands were covered with the blood of those he killed,” the headman explained. “He finished one of them with a blow from that claw to the back of the head.” Chodron tapped the handle of the hammer with his boot, revealing a second object underneath. “No one wants to even think about what he did with his other weapon.”
    It was a slender rod of stainless steel that rose into a curved sharp hook at one end. It was so out of context that it took Shan a moment to recognize it as a dental pick. The tip was covered in blood.
    The woman shuddered and looked away. The other two elders stared into the fire, carefully avoiding looking at the objects.
    “The people of the town say there are no witnesses,” Lokesh reminded them.
    “My people are like children when it comes to things of the outside world,” Chodron said. “They must be taught right from wrong.”
    “And you will do so by killing this stranger?” Shan asked.
    “If the deities wish to prevent it, they can take him before he awakes. Otherwise,” Chodron said in a brittle tone, “those of us responsible for the village know our obligations. We will have a town assembly. We will speak of what happened, of why we must do what we have to do. I have been rereading the old records with the elders. Perhaps it will be enough to take something of his body, perhaps only one eye. In the old days they sometimes just took an eye. We are taught to be compassionate.”
    “Compassion in Drango,” Lokesh observed in a haunted tone, “has a flavor all its own.”
    The old woman tightened her hands. They covered something inside her blouse. She was wearing a gau around her neck, Shan realized, a prayer box, the only one he had seen among the villagers.
    Chodron ignored Lokesh. “The punishment will be carried out according to our custom. If he is still alive afterward he will be taken to the nearest road. For as long as the village has been here it has punished its own wrongdoers. The true test of a leader, like that of a barn beam, is when a storm wind blows. I will not retreat from my duty.”
    “We have seen what you do with beams in Drango,” Shan said.
    Chodron clenched his jaw. “I caught Yangke stealing from my house. He confessed in front of the village and I read out the traditional punishment. Some argued that he should be taken to the