Chapter 29: The Dragon King of Caltrop Pond

All right. Enough reminiscing. All the humans and most of the spirits at that New Year’s Eve party in the City of Dawn Song were long dead, and who knew if the palace itself still stood? All of that lay in the past. Five hundred years in the past. Whereas I had a modern-day Serican party to attend – er, infiltrate and investigate – now.

A quick glance told me that the spirits were so drunk they’d be lucky to identify me as a turtle, much less an unawakened turtle that could talk. If anything, my lack of an offering was more problematic. But that, I could handle.

Head held high, I glided into the audience chamber as if I’d been invited. On the dais, a group of human musicians was playing inside a dome of air. The mass of gyrating bodies parted to let me onto the dance floor, and I bobbed up and down to the drums, surrounded by a swirl of spilled ale, brandy, wine, and whatever other types of booze that present-day Sericans were capable of concocting.

The bamboo viper I’d seen earlier tried to twirl, lost her balance, and tumbled across my shell. Hiccupping, she slurred, “Shorree! Washn’t on pur – purposh – din’t mean to – to – ” Unable to string together a coherent sentence, she swayed off me and thrust a flask into my eyes.

Scooting backwards, I took it between my front feet and sniffed warily. Then I risked a tiny, experimental sip – and felt it scour the insides of my mouth and burn all the way down my throat into my stomach.

“Bad, ishn’it?” yelled the bamboo viper over the music. “Have shome more!”

I just toasted her with the flask.

Across the room, a group of rice paddy snakes were writhing around and even on the throne itself with a shocking lack of concern for lèse-majesté – oh.

Oh. The spirit dancing on the throne was the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond himself. Never mind then.

Leaving the bamboo viper to her flailing, I dragged the flask across the dance floor until I reached them. The rice paddy snakes greeted me with cheers, and the dragon plopped down to lounge in his throne, the caltrop-nut-shaped back splayed out behind him like bat wings.

“Wel – wel – hic – welcome!” he proclaimed on the third try. “What have you brought – hic – Us?” He stabbed one claw at the flask.

Aww, he only had three claws per foot. Just a wee babe of a dragon. How cute.

I bowed, inclining my whole body. Wine, Majesty! (At least, it was as close to wine as it was to any other type of beverage.) I bring you an offering of wine, in gratitude for this most auspicious meeting at this most splendid event!

The dragon’s claws opened and closed in a clear “Gimme, gimme now,” so I swam forward and placed the flask in his hand.

Throwing back his head until his stubby horns scraped the throne, he chugged it in one go. I watched, fascinated, waiting for him to choke, but he bounced up onto his seat and flung his arms wide.

“Yes! Yes! That’s the stuff! What’s your name, spirit!” He stabbed a claw at me.

Well, I certainly wasn’t going to say “Mooncloud.” Casting about for inspiration, I blurted out, Rosette! My name is Rosette, Majesty.

“Rosette!” He turned the word over, testing the syllables. “I like it! I’m going to call you – Rosie!” Holding the empty flask high, he shouted, “To Rosie, our newest friend!”

The rice paddy snakes roared, “To Rosie! To Rosie!”

Tossing the flask aside, the dragon kicked off his throne and arced across the room. As he plummeted towards the center of the dance floor, his guests cheered and crowded back to make space. The pounding beat stopped, the music swung into a jig, and one of the rice paddy snakes slithered up to fasten strings of dried caltrop nuts to his legs. Meanwhile, crab servants were winding through the crowd, handing out more strings of dried caltrop nuts for everyone to tie on themselves. I glimpsed the bamboo viper looping hers around her tail, while the whistling duck draped his around his neck.

Before everyone had finished, the dragon was already leaping and capering, the caltrop nuts clicking out a merry rhythm. The other spirits joined in, to the best of their abilities. (The snakes had the most trouble since they didn’t have legs, but they balanced on their tails and bounced up and down on the tips.)

A string of caltrop nuts swaying around my neck, I found myself pressed between the bamboo viper and the whistling duck. What are we doing? I called over the din.

“If yer ashking that, yer not – yer not – drunk enough!” the bamboo viper yelled back.

An excellent point. But since I wasn’t a masochist, I didn’t plan to get drunk at all, so I bobbed in time to the music and applauded the dragon’s antics along with the others.

Hey, I realized all of a sudden, this is fun!

“’Course it’s fun!” shouted the whistling duck. “Wouldn’t do it if it weren’t!”

“The fun-nest part ish coming!” added the bamboo viper.

Right on cue, the dragon pumped his fists over his head. “Outside!” he bellowed.

The whole room erupted into whoops. “Outside! Outside! To the outside!”

He pranced for the exit, the rice paddy snakes falling in behind him, followed by the rest of the guests, everyone still stepping and leaping and spinning. We tinkled to the surface of the pond, burst through the caltrops in a fountain of shredded leaves, and started to dance our way across the countryside. The musicians kept pace with us, playing as hard as they could.

“Louder!” came the dragon’s shout, echoed by all his guests. “LOUDER!”

The volume went up.

As we cavorted past the first cottage, a voice hollered out the window, “Oy! Keep it down!”

He was met by a chorus of “Nevaaaah!” and “Come! Dance! With! Us!”

Oh dear. Did depriving human farmers of sleep and causing lost productivity lead to negative karma?

Do we ever get in trouble? Like, with the baron? I asked the spirits around me.

They chortled. “What can he do to US?”

I did consider dropping out of the dance line, but if the Accountants were going to punish me for waking humans, they were already going to punish me for waking humans. And I had Aurelia’s oath. And anyway, this was so fun. It was more fun than I’d had in centuries. After the way my lives had been going, I deserved to have a good time just this once.

And so we spent the rest of the night circling the land around Caltrop Pond, passing Honeysuckle Croft and the irate Master and Mistress Jek and their excited children, who did want to join us but were smacked back by their parents, and making a thorough public nuisance of ourselves. At last, as the sky started to shift from star-spangled black to grey, we spiraled back to the pond.

To the cries of “The Dawn Dance! The Dawn Dance!” perhaps half the spirits stripped off their caltrop nut strings and clustered in groups of eight. While each set formed into a square with a pair of dancers on each side, the rest of us fell back to form a giant circle around them.

What’s going on now? I asked my trusty new friends the bamboo viper and the whistling duck. Should we find five more people?

“I’sh the Dawn Dansh!” she cheered.

“I can never keep the steps straight,” he shrugged.

I took that to mean it was a choreographed routine and I’d be better off watching.

Right as the sun peeked over the horizon, the drum fell silent, and the flute, recorder, and lute began a stately melody that actually sounded like court music. The spirits in each set bowed to one another, then launched into a complicated sequence of steps and twirls. Sometimes they danced around or across the box; other times they joined hands (if they had them) and danced in a circle.

After a night of carousing, so many spirits messed up that I had trouble figuring out the exact choreography until I focused on the dragon king and his chosen seven rice paddy snakes. Shockingly, each of them executed the dance with regal ease. I supposed they had had plenty of opportunity to build up a high alcohol tolerance.

At the end of the dance, the spirits bowed to their partners again, holding the pose until the final notes blew away on the dawn breeze.

There was a moment of silence. Then the spell broke, and the onlookers applauded wildly while the dancers high-fived (if they could) and grinned exhausted, triumphant grins. I was preparing to bid my new friends farewell when –

“The Chicken Dance! The Chicken Dance!” bellowed the dragon, and the musicians swung into a ridiculously upbeat tune.

What’s this? I demanded.

“It’s the Chicken Dance!” the whistling duck called back.

The what?

“The Chicken Dance! It’s easy! Just watch us and you’ll pick it up!”

All around us, spirits who had limbs were flapping them like wings, wriggling their bodies while sinking towards the ground, clapping their hands or feet if they had them, and then repeating the motions. I joined in as best I could with my flippers and hard shell. Periodically, we ran first to one side and then to the other in a giant circle around the pond. This didn’t work so well when there were turtles involved, of course, so spirits tripped and fell over one another, giggling the whole time.

I found myself laughing, swept up in the gaiety. This is a silly dance! I yelled. This is the silliest dance I’ve ever seen!

“Isn’t it?” agreed the duck, flapping his wings.

“I’sh the besht!”

Yeah! I agreed. Does His Majesty do this every night?

“Pretty much! You should come again!”

I think I will!

When the music finally ended, the Dragon King flew to the center of his pond, where he teetered on the caltrop rosettes and raised his arms. “Thank you all for coming! This concludes our night!”

The proclamation was met by cheers and yells of “Thank you, Your Majesty!”

“Come back tonight if you want more! The only price is an offering of alcohol!”

More cheering. I caught myself wondering where I could steal a bottle. No wonder the duck demons had turned to banditry!

After that announcement, the dragon stepped off the caltrops and plummeted into the water. The rice paddy snakes dove after him, presumably to snore the day away in their bedroom. On land, the guests were bidding one another goodbye and good morning and straggling off across the fields. The musicians packed up their instruments and trudged towards Black Sand Creek, which they had to cross to return to the Green Frog’s fief.

“Will we see you tonight?” the whistling duck asked me.

Before I could answer, the bamboo viper, who’d finally sobered up but was pressing her tail to her head as if she had a migraine, cut in, “Oh, can you come again tonight, Shtripey? I thought you had work.”

The whistling duck gave another of his signature wing shrugs. “Eh, we’ll see. Probably not. The weather’s turned cold, so travel is down.”

Probably a good thing. I’d rather not know about any activities that harmed humans.

I’m sorry, I never caught your name, I said to the bamboo viper.

“Bobo,” she replied. “You?”

Rosette. Rosie for short.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Stripey finally asked the question I’d been hoping to avoid.

Yes, I’m from Black Sand Creek.

I didn’t think it would be an issue, though. The duck demon himself came from the Claymouth Barony, so obviously the dragon invited spirits from other fiefs to his parties – provided they brought alcohol.

And indeed, Stripey and Bobo simply nodded at my statement.

“Well, we’re off then,” the whistling duck told me. “See you around, Rosie.”

I lumbered in the direction of Black Sand Creek until they were out of sight, and then doubled back to soak in Caltrop Pond. I needed to recuperate before I spent another day supervising Taila.