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carriage.” She instructed them to cut down a small, dead tree and make a stretcher. She was getting quite used to ordering soldiers around.
    The driver was still staring at the gaping wound. He was young and had probably never seen a spear wound before.
    “Find some staunchweed,” Ping said. “Pick as much as you can.”
    “I … I don’t know what it looks like,” he stammered.
    “Kai will show you.”
    The driver looked at the dragon doubtfully.
    “Hurry,” Ping shouted.
    Kai ran off and the soldier followed him. Ping was glad she had learned the uses of herbs from the Duke’s herbalist and taught Kai to recognise some.
    “Be gentle,” Ping said, as they lifted the Emperoronto the stretcher, then stumbled over the uneven ground. They put him down next to the carriage.
    She turned to the soldiers. “Light a fire. Heat up some water.”
    The soldiers hurried off to collect firewood. Ping filled a cup with wine, supported the Emperor’s head and dribbled the liquid into his mouth.
    The soldiers built a small fire, and placed a pot of water on top. As soon as the water was warm, Ping cleaned the Emperor’s wounds. She found her jar of red cloud herb ointment and smeared the sticky balm over the gashes on his face, arms and legs. When Kai and the driver returned with the staunchweed, she packed the wounds with some of the leaves. The rest she threw into the pot of hot water—tea made from the herb helped keep fever at bay. Ping hadn’t expected to need knowledge of healing herbs on the second day of their journey. She pulled the nightgown from her bag, and tore it into strips which she used to bandage the Emperor’s wounds.
    When the tent was erected, the soldiers gently moved the Emperor inside. Ping put one of Kai’s cushions under his head and brought rugs from the carriage to cover him. She sent the soldiers off to hunt for food, and they soon returned with a rabbit and a pheasant. The driver made stew with the meat and flavoured it with kitchen herbs that Kai had found. They ate the meal in silence.
    A cough woke Ping during the night. She knew it was neither of the soldiers. Even though one of them was supposed to be on guard at all times, they were both snoring outside the tent. The driver was asleep in the carriage. Kai was sleeping as well. Ping threw off her bearskin and went over to the Emperor. He coughed again. She lifted his head and gave him some of the staunchweed tea sweetened with a little honey. He swallowed and opened his eyes. Ping wasn’t sure whether she was pleased or disappointed that he had revived.
    “Are you dead too, Ping?” he asked.
    “No,” she replied sharply. “Neither of us is dead.”
    He tried to turn his head to see where he was, but even such a small movement made him groan with pain.
    Ping looked at his bruised and bloodied face. He would have other scars to go with the familiar one that cut through his right eyebrow. His hair was hanging on his shoulders in tangled clumps. He didn’t look at all imperial. She could see conflicting emotions in his dark eyes—pain from his wounds, relief at being alive, confusion at finding himself with his head resting on her lap.
    “Have you saved my life, Ping?”
    “It wasn’t me who found you. It was Kai.”
    “Kai,” he whispered.
    He drank more tea and sank into sleep again.
    Ping stayed awake.
    The first time she’d met the Emperor on the banks of the Yellow River, he had been a cheerful boy of 15 years. They had become good friends and she was truly sorry when she had to escape with Danzi against the Emperor’s wishes. The second time they met, circumstances were different. She was under arrest for stealing the imperial dragon. It was less than a year later, but the Emperor had changed. He’d become preoccupied by a desire to live a long life. That desire had gradually become an obsession to live forever, at whatever cost—even if the cost was Kai’s life. All his energy had gone into working with scientists