The Lamb and the Gray Battle

Circa 1353

Back then, Diyiren couldn't shift into a black dragon on command. He couldn't even shift his soft human fingers into claws. At that age, he looked human, but he was really a gelatinous blob. He couldn't be bruised or cut. Injuries disappeared as soon as they occurred. Trying to make himself firm and hold shape took a lot of work and made him tired. He spent several days practicing, making the gold hooks come out of his fingers, but then his concentration would break and he would shift back into his soft little body.

A knock came at his door. No one knocked and Diyiren shot up.

The woman Siofra let herself in. Even though she was a regular resident, she continued to wear a threadbare cotte and a hemp rope belt.

"Don't you eat?"

He wasn't a fool. He wasn't going to trust this woman.

But that was no reason to be rude. She might realize he was suspicious.

"I have cultivated my chi to a point where food is unnecessary," he said.

"Unnecessary?"

"Sometimes BoBo makes me eat, but I don't want to right now."

Siofra bustled in and swept him up, like she didn't mind his little grunts and growls at all. "No wonder you're so angry. When I'm hungry, I get mad too."

She pulled out a red cotton scarf and unwrapped some clumps of bread and cheese. She nodded to him until he reached forward and nibbled at the bread. It had a sweet coating and was filled with jam.

Siofra said, "Your mother is mean to you."

He lifted one shoulder, ripped off another chunk of this biscuit thing. Siofra had long, slim hands, but her fingers were soft. She was tapping the wood surface of his bed. Laoshi insisted Diyiren keep a bonsai tree on his desk, a ray of sun bathing it from the window. The plant had been freshly watered, but wouldn't need pruning until spring.

"What do you do for fun?"

Diyiren knew the word fun, but it was another one he didn't really understand. BoBo would carry him around and show him off to people and say, "Wasn't that fun?" but it never seemed to be right.

Siofra put out her hand. Diyiren was polite enough to continue eating, but he wouldn't touch this woman's skin. So Siofra seized him and put him on her hip. She whipped along, darted right past Djehuty and Laoshi. The guards didn't even stop her. In fact, they bowed. And this wasn't outside in the courtyard. This was all the way outside, beyond the walls of the Fortress.

Diyiren scrambled in her arms, tried to break free. BoBo was going to be mad when he found out, but he'd smile when he told her off. Trees whisked by as if they were moving and not them. Siofra's hair was a fire trailing them.

BoBo would say, "Madame Siofra, you don't understand how things are done here."

Siofra whispered in his ear, "You give BoBo too much power." Then she released him.

The blue eyes glowed yellow, as if the sun were really an orb that she probed him with. He was dizzy, hypnotized by the gaze. He tumbled to the ground, onto his bottom.

"I haven't seen you laugh since I came and you only smiled a couple of times that first night." Again, the conspiratorial whisper, "You can smile and laugh with me. I won't tell anyone."

Diyiren had no idea what to make of this scrawny woman. She seemed to be at one with nature, each bit of her person taken from the Earth, tree limbs for arms, a smile as soothing as a river, her fingers long, thin flower petals.

The wind picked up around him and swirled the tall grass. Diyiren clambered to his feet, spun to each blade beating around him. The whipping had a rhythm and Siofra started to dance.

Stop it, he told himself. This woman Siofra was just a common witch, a dirty demon blood, nothing noble about her.

"Niang can control the weather too," he said, as a reminder more to himself than to her. Quieter, he added, "I can't."

Siofra zipped him off of the ground, twirled in time with the wind. For bony limbs, they were as strong as his tungsten dummies.

"You are too young to worry about controlling the weather," Siofra said, her voice the same chime as before. "It takes decades to control your energy."

"Satan is going to find me," he said, breaking from her and running several strides out of her grasp. "Niang said I need to get strong. I need to practice."

He kneaded his hands. Resentment goosed his skin.

"Nonsense," Siofra said, lashing out her leg and gliding through the air.

"Satan is coming!"

"Not today," Siofra said, her toe landing inches from him and the rest of her floating to the ground. "Besides, I'm not controlling the weather,"

She soared through the air, whirled about, her laughter cascading off the trees. Siofra said it wasn't wind, but the leaves moved and the branches rattled. Nothing could penetrate this vortex she created and Diyiren gnawed his lip.

"I can control sound. I'm making music, calling the sound to me, arranging it. You know what music is."

These weren't like the music lessons Laoshi taught him, his guqin collecting dust in the library. Fear became something else. Birds chirped in time with the wind. The sound was a howl. He bobbed his head, let the melody caress him, lead him into a dance. But his steps were slower. He was leashed, a puppet. Siofra was the master.

This sensation of lightness was new. Even when he battled his mother or Sutekh with the sword, he wasn't buoyant like this. The smell was fresh and his mind cleared. He willed these pins of energy to move through him. He was air and he released his mind.

His mother was wrong. Siofra was a god.

He fell back on the ground, a laughing blob.

"We can do this again tomorrow."

And then the clouds turned black.

"BoBo won't let me."

"We'll see what BoBo lets you do."