The Emperor's Head

24. Oyun Timur, the Dragon Master

I feel my age more since he has arrived. My core has extended my life so long that I can no longer remember my childhood. And yet, I remember his face.

Oyun let his eyes rest on Jun as the young man's fire draws on every source of power in the room, including Oyun's core. He only met with Jun alone occasionally, not wanting to expend all of his core to train the young man. Only one other time in his life had he shared his core with another man.

How can you look so much like your ancestor?

Memories of youth he had thought gone forever flooded the room, obscuring reality and capturing Oyun.

"This is the future Emperor. You have been chosen to be his companion," Oyun's father frowned at him, the sour look on his face so divergent from the usual soft contemplation of the Palace scholar.

"Is it not a good thing to be the companion of the Crown Prince?" Oyun asked his father quietly as they stared through the grates at the meditating boy. This palace section was entirely built of stone and metal; metal shutters covered the windows instead of curtains, and the servants spread soft sand over the stone floors to reduce the noise instead of carpets. No one dared disturb the imperial family while they trained.

"Fire is a hungry friend," a strangely accented voice announced behind him. Oyun turned with surprise and caught a slight smile crossing his father's face before he resumed a neutral expression.

At least he's not angry anymore.

Oyun's eyes fell on the source of the voice, and a gasp escaped his mouth before he remembered to bow at the foreign wizard. A gentle tap on his head released the bow, and Oyun took his time rising so he could inspect every inch of the exotic man. He wore the same light summer robes as the rest of the Palace. The white cloth covered the foreigner's feet, despite his height, and was somewhat dirty from the sanded halls.

He comes here often then.

Oyun followed the flowing robe up towards the man's broad chest. Though he wore the robes of the Empire, they had been cut wider for the foreigner and longer. They fit perfectly across his broad shoulders but still looked wrong on this man's frame. Finally, his eyes fell on the pink skin of the man's neck.

What an odd color for skin.

"Earth is one of the few friends who can feed Fire and contain it as well," the man continued his lecture pulling Oyun's glance to his hairy face. Though his father wore a beard, the black hair sprouted from this man's face in almost the same volume as his head.

At least the color is right, if not the texture.

"And you are strong in Earth, young Oyun." The man's use of his name startled Oyun enough that he met his strange green eyes.

"Master Brand, we are honored by your presence," Oyun's father bowed courteously, and the man called Brand bent slightly in return before rising immediately to an upright position.

Oyun's father stood near the top of the rankings in the Palace; most men had to keep their bows to him until released. Master Brand had known to remove Oyun from his bow and spoke the Imperial tongue perfectly; he should also know who outranked him in the palace hierarchy. Though, as a foreigner, he would be excused from minor errors, his father didn't flinch with irritation.

They are of equal status.

"I will take care of your son, Master Batu." Master Brand put a hand on Oyun's father's arm reassuringly. Not many touched the Emperor's chief counselor or spoke to him with the friendly tones Master Brand used. Batu smiled and pat Brand's hand.