but they hadn’t travelled more than two or three
li
before Tao had to stop.
“I feel dizzy.”
“You need to eat,” Kai said. “You have not had a good meal in days. And I do not want to waste these.”
He held up two dead swallows. Eating was the last thought on Tao’s mind, but his legs were weak, whether from fear or lack of food he didn’t know.
They walked a little further until they came to a stream and a small clearing. Kai fetched water while Tao collected some wood and lit a fire using his firesticks. The damp twigs he’d collected smoked, but no flames emerged. He used the edge of his blanket to fan the few glowing embers. Kai leaned closer to inspect Tao.
“A bat scratched your face last night, and your hands are cut from holding on to my tail.”
Tao glanced at his hands. They were covered in small cuts and scratches. Kai reached behind one of his reverse scales and pulled out a folded leaf. He opened it and handed it to Tao. It contained a dollop of something slimy and red. Tao guessed that the substance was chewed red cloud herb. He scooped up a little of the healing ointment and rubbed it into his cuts. It stung.
“I collected it when we were at Yinmi and you were busy bathing,” Kai said.
That seemed like a very long time ago.
A small flame licked up from the smoking twigs. Kai was impatient for his breakfast. He threw wet leafy twigs on the fire, making it smoke even more.
“You should wait for the fire to burn down to embers,” Tao said, “if you want the birds to roast nicely.”
Kai couldn’t wait. He skewered the birds on a twig and threw them on the fire. The smell of burning feathers filled the air. He barely left the birds long enough to sear before he pulled them from the fire.
“Smoked swallow is also good.”
He produced some bat droppings from another reverse scale and sprinkled them on his food.
“I thought you didn’t like bat droppings.”
“I have changed my mind. They taste quite good as a garnish for meat.”
Kai ate one of the swallows whole, crunching the bones and making appreciative noises. Then he stuffed the other bird in his mouth. Tao concentrated on cooking his grain and toasting his mushrooms to avoid seeing the blood running into the dragon’s beard. He felt sick at the thought of eating, but he knew he had to. He ate slowly, one small mouthful at a time. It was the best meal he’d had for several days, but there was no enjoyment in eating it.
To take his mind off the horrors of the cave, Tao thought about his iron experiment.
“If my theory is correct and one of the ingredients in Sha’s tiger-blood brew stopped her reacting to iron, then it has to be cinnabar. I don’t know what it looks like. Do you?”
“I have seen cinnabar. It is a mineral in the form of red crystals. Humans dig for it in mines.”
“How will we find some?”
“I do not know,” the dragon said. “Perhaps we can purchase some. Herbalists use cinnabar, and magicians.”
“It is most unlikely that we’ll run into a herbalist … or a magician, but if we do, we don’t have gold or anything to barter with.”
Tao felt better after he had eaten. His vision had served more than one purpose. It had led them to shelter, showed them where to find the next item on Tao’s list, and provided food for Kai as well. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling of uneasiness.
He recited a sutra to help calm his mind, but before he was halfway through, his thoughts wandered back to Yinmi. At that time of day, the novices would all be in the Meditation Hall listening to their abbot instruct them on the meaning of one of the sutras.
“You are thinking about your monastery,” Kai said.
“How do you know?”
“Sometimes your thoughts leak through to me.”
Tao sighed. Not even his thoughts were his own.
“Do you wish to return to your monkish life?”
Tao allowed himself to imagine living at the monastery again – the peaceful rhythm of each day with a simple monastic