Archive of Our Own

Mei peered at Temeraire curiously. "Are all your lung-zi men, then? How very strange!"

"Not all of them - my runner Roland is a female, and there are several British breeds that won't fly with males," he said. "But primarily, just as yours are primarily women. Laurence has tried to explain it to me, but it is very confusing - he says it is that women are fragile and delicate, but I do not see how the female aviators I have met are so very delicate, and Lily, my formation leader, fights as well as I do. "

"Perhaps our Chinese women are stronger than your Western women," Mei said. "China's lung-zi were all men once, too, long ago, but now hardly any are. I am sure that our women could not be kept from fighting; they are fierce warriors, and even if they were not allowed to fight, as your women are not, they would find a way. Hua MuLan dressed as a man and went to fight for Emperor Tang Xuanzong, after all."

"Roland and Catherine are perfectly strong," Temeraire said indignantly, and then, distracted, "But why did she dress as a man? Your other female aviators do not. I heard Zhao Wei telling Laurence something about it when we went into town, but it all seems quite silly to me."

Mei curled her tail around her hind legs and flexed her claws. "I forget that you do not know anything about history," she said, kindly. "Hua Mu Lan was the first woman lung-zi, in the dawning days of the Tang Dynasty, when our forces were as barbaric as yours in such matters and only men were allowed to fight." Temeraire bridled a bit at this, the spines of his ruff flaring, but subsided as Mei continued. "Her story is one of our most famous poems. I will sing it to you, if you like."

Without waiting for his response, she began.

 

MuLan was in the courtyard when Lung Hong Dao returned.

"Eldest Daughter," she said, "I have been to the marketplace this morning, and there I have seen a most distressing thing. The recruitment scrolls have been posted, and each of them bears your father's name."

MuLan laid down her calligraphy brush and stared. "But Father cannot fight! He is too sick and his joints pain him. They cannot call him to serve the Emperor!"

Lung Hong Dao sighed. "You and I know this, Eldest Daughter, but the Emperor does not, nor would he care. If your father cannot serve, Elder Brother will have to go in his stead."

MuLan shook her head. Elder Brother was a scholar, skilled at calligraphy and legal argument. "But he is preparing to take the Imperial examinations in Xi'an in two months' time! He will surely do well, and will make an excellent civil servant, but as a warrior - can you imagine?" She shared a look with the dragon. They both remembered the mess he had made of his sword and archery lessons as a boy. He belonged at his books; the alternative was unthinkable.

"That is why I have come to you, Eldest Daughter." Lung Hong Dao said. "My name is on the scrolls with that of your father, as I fought with him, and his father before him, in the service of the Emperor. I must go, and the Hua family must send a warrior with me. You are capable with sword and bow, for your father has ever indulged you in such things, and you fly better than Elder Brother can ever hope to do. Will you come with me in your father's stead, and spare them both?"

MuLan turned away. "You jest, Lung Hong Dao, and jest cruelly. I would save Father and Elder Brother in any way in my power, but you know that women may not fight as lung-zi. I would be turned away at the barracks, and the Hua family name disgraced."

"We can hide your sex, Eldest Daughter. With binding and male armor you could pass for a young man such as your brother. With training, you could fight as well as any warrior in the Emperor's army; I am female, and no one dares to say I am less fierce a fighter for it." Lung Hong Dao spoke passionately, her scales glowing a deeper red in the late afternoon sun, and MuLan turned back and laid a hand on her foreleg. The dragon nuzzled her, nearly knocking her over.

"But the decision must be yours, Eldest Daughter. It will not be easy or safe, and you will not see your parents or your brother or sister for long years. I know, too, that Chen Yi has spoken to your father about you; he wishes to take you as his wife. I will be at your side if you come with me, but you would be giving up much to do this, and I want you to choose wisely."

"Chen Yi has no other wives, and his mother is not unkind," MuLan said. "He would be a respectable match for our family. If I go with you, when I return home, no man will want to take me as his wife."

Lung Hong Dao was silent.

"Do you really think we would succeed?" MuLan asked finally, in a small voice. It sounded very thrilling and brave, but she was a practical girl; there was no use in foolish risk-taking.

"I am sure of it," said Lung Hong Dao. "And I would rather fight with you as lung-zi than Elder Brother," she admitted candidly. "You were a promising archer as a girl, and not bad with your sword, either."

MuLan flushed at the praise. She had loved her lessons, and cried when Mother insisted that she was becoming a young lady, and must stop such "foolishness" and learn weaving and cooking instead. She was a dutiful daughter, but she often chafed at the restrictions placed on her by her sex. Her hands clenched as she imagined gripping a bow once more.

That night, MuLan's fingers shook as she wove, tangling the threads in her loom. "Are you all right?" Mother asked. "You are acting so strangely!"

"What has you so distracted?" Father said. "It is not like you."

MuLan said, "It is nothing. I am fine, only a little tired," and set her shuttle down.

Once her parents were asleep, MuLan rose from her bed, braided her hair, and wrote a note to her parents.

Father, Mother, Lung Hong Dao and I go to uphold the honor of our family. As Kong-zi has said, 'The filial piety with which the superior person serves their parents may be transferred as loyalty to the ruler.' In serving the Emperor, your dutiful daughter gives you proper filial reverence as well.

She hesitated for a moment, and then left it on her pillow. She tried not to think about Mother coming in to find it in the morning, about what Father would say when he learned she was gone. Would they burn incense for her as though she had died? Would they understand what she was about to do? She scrubbed angrily at her cheeks, wiping away the hot tears.

Tiptoeing to the study, MuLan dressed herself in Father's padded armor and warm coat. His scale breastplate and light helmet she wrapped in soft wool to muffle the noise of their clanking, and she took Father's good sword and his strong bow with her as well. She shouldered the bundle, bent almost double under its weight, and crept quietly, quietly through the house. She held her breath lest she wake Younger Sister, who slept lightly, but no one stirred, and MuLan let herself out through the side door.

Lung Hong Dao waited in the courtyard, scales almost black in the pale moonlight. Her riding-harness was beside her in its leather bag, and another bag bulged beside it. "Eldest Daughter," she hissed, and MuLan looked about her in fear, for a dragon's whisper is none too quiet. "We must wait until we are far from town to put on my harness; it will be too noisy here."

MuLan nodded, silently, and added her meagre bundle to the bags. Lung Hong Dao took them in her claws, and MuLan scrambled up her near foreleg and held on tightly to the collar of gold and citrines clasped around her neck. With a powerful thrust of her hind legs and a single beat of her broad wings, Lung Hong Dao launched herself silently into the night.

Many li later, they reached the banks of the Yellow River and Lung Hong Dao set down. MuLan tumbled off in a heap. Her bones ached from the chill of night flying, and she felt numb with fear and misery.

Lung Hong Dao eyed her with sympathy. "We need go no further tonight," she said, and extended a wing out to enfold MuLan. "Sleep now, and we can start again at dawn." MuLan curled into the warmth of the dragon's side and fell instantly, dreamlessly asleep.

They took three weeks to reach the recruitment grounds.

They stayed in the Black Mountains for most of it, allowing MuLan to practice her rusty skills in flying, swordfighting, and archery under Lung Hong Dao's patient tutelage. No one would expect her to be in peak fighting condition on arrival at the recruitment grounds, but she did not wish to stand out as unfit.

In the evenings, Lung Hong Dao hunted and MuLan ate her boiled rice with meat shared from the dragon's kill. Over dinner, they planned their deception, spinning out MuLan's new identity and story and committing it to memory until it came naturally to them both. And each night, they curled up together on the ground as the feral mountain dragons called out to one another in the distance, and fell asleep to their echoing cries. If Lung Hong Dao heard a softer crying some nights, and felt MuLan trembling beneath her wing, she said nothing.

They left the mountains on a crisp autumn day, and flew hundreds of li, over towns and villages much like their own, until they reached the recruitment grounds. They went unchallenged at the gates, the guards and their dragons eyeing them without interest, and presented themselves to the clerk at the recruitment office.

MuLan's head ached from where her warrior's braid had been wrapped tightly beneath her cap. "Who are you?" asked the clerk, barely looking up from his scrolls. Lung Hong Dao spoke for them both. "Lung Hong Dao, sir, from Jiazhen town, with Hua Xiao lung-zi."

The clerk searched through his desk and unrolled a scroll. He ran a finger down the columns of characters and frowned. MuLan held her breath. "Hua Xiao is not on the list."

MuLan pitched her voice as low as she could. "I fight for my father, Hua Shen, and in my elder brother's stead. The family cannot spare them."

The clerk looked up. "You will be assigned to General Wu Ming's company. He will provide you with your ground crew listing and quarters when you report. Go to the left of this building; you will find General Wu on the practice field with the rest of your company."

He bent back over the scroll, brush already in hand, and they stood dumbly, waiting, until he looked up again. "Well, boy?" he said. "Go!" They bowed and left.

To their surprise, it was just that easy. General Wu and the rest of the lung-zi and ground crew in her company never questioned her story, and she and Lung Hong Dao, in turn, worked hard to give them no cause. Lung Hong Dao was small enough that they had no other crew aboard her, and she and MuLan kept to themselves and focused on the training with a will. She rose early every morning to do her exercises, spoke quietly and seldom, and eschewed the evening revelries of the others to seek an early rest under Lung Hong Dao's wing, only to do it all again the next day, and the next, until they were sent out to the front, and even after.

Her comrades mocked her for her strange, isolated ways, but she paid them no mind. And once they had seen her in battle, in their first engagement with the barbarians, they ceased to laugh. "Xiao Gui," they called her then, "Little Demon," for she fought with a ferocity and fearlessness none of them could match.

MuLan knew that her bravery and ferocity was not fearless at all, but born from her deep anxiety that she would be unmasked as a woman. She had to shoot her arrows twice as quickly, aim twice as accurately, and be deadly and sure with her sword work, for if she were ever wounded, she would be discovered. "If I am wounded in battle," she begged Lung Hong Dao, "Take me home to Jiazhen. Do not allow my comrades or the doctors to see me, for I could not bear it if I were to be exposed and bring dishonor upon my family and the Hua name." And Lung Hong Dao gave her word.

But the promise was unnecessary, it seemed, for no-one could touch the Little Demon. Together, she and Lung Hong Dao brought down a barbarian warlord's dragon, though he was three times their size. Together, they foiled a mountain ambush, warning the company of the dragons lying concealed in snow-caves moments before they would have been set upon unawares. Together they tore wide swathes through enemy cavalry and foot troops, and from each engagement, they emerged unscathed. Her comrades told each other that surely the Little Demon had been blessed by the ancestors, and their respect for her grew with each new battle.

General Wei's company was never in one place long; they fought from the Onion Mountains to the Yellow Sea in the service of the Emperor, and many barbarians fell before them. The Emperor's troops pushed back against the barbaric invaders from the north and west and slowly gained ground. The Silk Road was opened to trade once the territory had been won, but the Chinese position was precarious along the entire northern border, and dragons were needed to patrol the remote areas and to support the ground troops and cavalry in their frequent engagements.

When she had served out her three years, the Imperial ministers had come to her and the other conscripts who were eligible to return home and offered them a place in the Emperor's standing army. All but MuLan declined; fathers and husbands were needed at home to help bring in the crops and maintain their family businesses; they could not be spared. MuLan imagined her homecoming, how the villagers would whisper in the marketplace about the Hua daughter who dressed and fought like a man, and chose to stay.

She sent a letter to her family, written in shaky brush-strokes by lantern-light, at another cold and windy garrison.

Honored Father and Mother, Lung Hong Dao and I have been offered a higher rank in the Emperor's standing army. Though I long for home, I fear my return will bring shame to you and to our family, whereas to stay can only bring more honor. Please take my meager pay and use it toward Younger Sister's bride-price, and know that my heart is always with our family, though I fly ten thousand li.

She received no reply.

The next day she and Lung Hong Dao were sent to Chang'an and quartered with the standing army. These were a different sort of soldiers: youngest sons and peasant boys, with no land of their own to tend. The dragons with whom they fought were often conscripts themselves, and untrained; MuLan and Lung Hong Dao were one of the most seasoned teams among them, and they gained the respect of their new comrades quickly.

Still they remained aloof. MuLan spoke seldom, confiding only in Lung Hong Dao. The ground crew and others in her flight group soon learned to leave her alone. But in the field, when they needed a bold strike, or an incursion to slice like a sword through the enemy's line of defense, they called always on Lung Hong Dao and Hua lung-zi.

In time, Hua Xiao and Lung Hong Dao became something of a legend among the Emperor's aerial forces. MuLan was promoted steadily, and Lung Hong Dao rose with her, their working relationship so close that it was rumored among new recruits that they spoke only to one another, in a language of their own devising. Together, they were dispatched to every major conflict in the north, lending aid to the Emperor's cavalry and foot soldiers wherever they were needed. They froze in the windy gusts and poor flying conditions of a hundred battlefields, vision marred by rain and snow and the smoke of burning buildings below. Their ears rang with the thunder of siege guns, and they crossed mountains and rivers only to come to new battlefields under different generals and fight again. They called her "Tian Gui," now, "The Emperor's Demon," and there were some who whispered that indeed, Hua lung-zi was not quite human, nor Lung Hong Dao quite dragon, but both of them something more.

She had been with the army for nearly ten years when they were called to a remote outpost on the northwestern border. The barbarian armies had been massing in the region, and the Prince himself had brought three hundred horse and five hundred men on foot to defend the territory.

MuLan was at the rear of the fighting, huddled under a large tree with Lung Hong Dao as they frantically patched a torn piece of harness. Flying without other crew on board had many advantages in the air, but the lack of ground crew at the battle sites was an ongoing problem. The generals insisted that they couldn't have non-combatant personnel at the front. MuLan tugged at a knot in the leather and cursed.

The rain was reducing the visibility for flying and washing off the mud that Lung Hong Dao liked to use to conceal her bright red scales. They'd been out in the downpour all day, and everyone was exhausted. If it hadn't been for the fact that the Emperor's brother was commanding these troops, they might have already ordered a retreat. Still, their company had done well; the enemy's dragons had all been captured or brought down, without the loss of any Chinese aerial forces, and the Imperial cavalry was pushing back the line of battle with every hour. But the dragons were faltering, so tired that they were hovering more for effect now than to offer any real contribution to the battle.

MuLan was climbing up onto Lung Hong Dao's back, tying her sash wearily to the harness, when she saw the bright flash of armor overhead, and heard the beat of wings. Lung Hong Dao heard it too, and looked up. The enemy dragon was coming from the west, but it was not one of theirs; it was a firebreather, crowded with barbarian crew and clad in spiky iron armor, and it looked fresh and rested.

MuLan didn't need to say a word; Lung Hong Dao was already throwing herself frantically into the air, beating after the new intruder as fast as she could. A fresh dragon with a rested crew coming in like this behind their lines could spell disaster for the Chinese forces; a firebreather was beyond disaster and into catastrophe. And it was headed directly toward the fighting.

Lung Hong Dao flew through the rain, against the wind, eyes fixed on the hazy form of the firebreather far ahead. The invaders' dragon was fresh and full of energy, but Lung Hong Dao was an agile, lightweight breed. On a clear day, with a full night's sleep and a goat or two inside her, she would have been able to fly circles around the heavier dragon. Now, buffeted by the wind and rain, exhausted after more then twelve hours of continuous fighting, she struggled just to gain ground.

But gain ground she did. Wingbeat by wingbeat she came closer to the enemy.

The barbarian crew was focused on the fighting ahead, or perhaps they were just unable to see well through the downpour, for it seemed no-one noticed the little scarlet dragon behind them. MuLan leaned forward into the harness as though she could urge Lung Hong Dao on with her body. She could see the fighting up ahead, the formless masses of foot soldiers and cavalry dark on the ground, and the vague shapes of dragons hovering above them. The Prince was mounted on one of those dragons, though MuLan could not tell which, for a Celestial looked much the same as a Jade Lotus in this weather; if he were brought down, the battle would be lost.

MuLan looked ahead again. They were closer to the firebreather, but not yet within archery range, and there was no way she could send an arrow true in this weather in any case. She thumped Lung Hong Dao's shoulder, and used their private hand signals to indicate that she should fly in low, as fast as she could. Lung Hong Dao redoubled her efforts, and MuLan could feel her lungs heaving as she strained into the wind. The barbarian crew had not yet noticed them, but surely it was just a matter of time. MuLan readied herself, retying her sash to allow herself more freedom of movement, and held her breath.

They were two lengths behind the enemy dragon - one length - so close, and yet the firebreather had almost gained the front lines, and MuLan could feel Lung Hong Dao's wingbeats beginning to falter from exhaustion. She could see the Prince and his Celestial, less than one li ahead and in the direct path of the enemy; they were focused on the fighting below and oblivious to the approaching danger.

A shout from just above warned that their luck had given out; someone on the firebreather's crew had spotted them. But it was too late; Lung Hong Dao gave a last few frantic beats of her wings and Hua MuLan leapt to her feet, ankles wrapped through the harness straps and sword drawn, as they came rushing up under the surprised dragon.

There was a sickening impact, and MuLan's arm went numb from the shock of it. She flailed upward with her sword and felt it sink in, heard the barbarian dragon scream, and wrenched her arm down, drawing the blade through soft flesh. She felt her own shoulder tear as she pulled away from the spike of the enemy's armor that had impaled her, and her skin burned with hot steam and blood, but she struck blindly upward again, slicing deep into soft underbelly one last time.

The firebreather screamed and thrashed in midair, mortally wounded, and began to fall. Lung Hong Dao, beneath it, was unable to disengage in time. Tangled in a knotted mess of harness and human and dragon, they fell together, the larger dragon's weight bearing them all down to the frozen battleground below. MuLan felt a burning pain in her leg and saw the gray sky whirl past her sickeningly as they tumbled through the air, and then all went black.

She woke to bright light and her body throbbing in agony.

The spirits of Mother and Father hovered over her. "Eldest Daughter?" they said. "Can you hear us?"

She looked at them in wonder and croaked through dry lips, "I have tried to be dutiful and do you utmost reverence, ancestors; do not be angry with your unworthy daughter." They reached out their hands to her, but already she was slipping back into the dark.

She woke again to twilight and continued pain. The room was small and familiar, and MuLan realized that she was lying on her own bed in her parents' home. The air was warm, stifling, and the house was eerily silent. MuLan called out, and heard hurried footsteps in the hallway. In moments, Mother burst in, older now but still full of energy. "Eldest Daughter, you are awake! We have been so worried!"

MuLan tried to raise herself up and almost passed out again from the pain. "Lung Hong Dao?" she asked urgently.

"Alive, let your heart be at rest," Mother said, and smiled. "She brought you here more than two weeks ago, both of you covered in blood and only half-alive. She will be glad to hear you are awake as well!"

Father came into the room, leaning on his cane. He had grown smaller, MuLan thought, in the years she had been away, and his face bore deeper lines. "Eldest Daughter," he greeted her.

"Father," MuLan said. "Father, please believe your humble daughter; I only ever fought to bring honor to our family." She felt hot tears spill over her cheeks, but could not stop them. "I have missed you both so much."

Father clasped her hand, gently. "And we have missed you, for many long years now."

She healed slowly. The barbarian's dragon had pierced her through the calf with a long talon when it fell, tearing through muscle and skin, and the spine wound in her shoulder was deep as well. She could hobble to the garden, using Father's second-best cane, in another week, and found Lung Hong Dao in much the same condition, with deep scores from the firebreather's claws in her wings and sides.

Younger Sister came to visit, glowing with happiness to see MuLan again. Chen Yi had married her a few years after MuLan had departed, and she was plump and happy, the mother of two fine sons and a daughter. "The boys wish to join the aerial forces when they are grown," she told MuLan indulgently. "Dragons are all they ever talk about! And now, with Aunt MuLan come home from the wars, I am sure Youngest Daughter will want to fly off as well."

MuLan sat up sharply in shock, and hissed through her teeth at the pain in her shoulder. "You have not told them, surely?"

"And why not?" Younger Sister said. "We are proud of the honor Hua lung-zi has brought to the family. Of course we have told the children."

"You must not tell anyone else," MuLan said, urgently. "If the Emperor discovers that a woman has served in his army, I could be punished severely, and Lung Hong Dao along with me, and our family fall into shame." She was shaking.

"Peng and the children will not tell anyone, I am sure, and Doctor Li is very discreet. And Tailor Zhen, who was here with Mother when Lung Hong Dao collapsed in the courtyard with you, I will ask him not to say anything either. Do not worry," Younger Sister said.

MuLan's heart sank. So many people knew already; surely one of them had already let something slip. Word traveled faster than dragons in the provinces, and it was only a matter of time before someone reported them to the officials.

"Here, let me do your hair," Younger Sister said, fishing a comb from the drawer by the bed. "And your make-up. I am sure you would like to look pretty again."

That evening, MuLan struggled out to the courtyard to sit with Lung Hong Dao. She did not like to look pretty again, not at all; the long skirt hampered her steps, making her leg hurt more as she limped across the paving stones, and her head felt funny with the weight of her hair piled atop it in a fancy crown. She rubbed wearily at her face and her hand came away smeared white with powder. Grimacing, she wiped it on the offending skirt.

Lung Hong Dao took one look at her and snorted.

MuLan sat on the bench near the dragon's head. "Younger Sister thinks I need to look pretty," she said ruefully. "But I am not used to skirts and rouge, Lung Hong Dao. I feel like a fool. No, I feel like a fraud."

"You are who you are," Lung Hong Dao said, nosing at her. "It is not foolish to bow to the wishes of your family while you are here, and it is only for a short time, until you are well. When we go back to the garrison, you can dress sensibly again. You could not fly in those skirts anyway; I am sure Younger Sister will understand."

MuLan dropped her head into her hands. "She does not understand, Lung Hong Dao, not at all. I have come to tell you that she says Chen Yi knows, and Doctor Li, and Tailor Zhen, and all three of her children. We cannot return to the garrison; we will be lucky if we can remain at home and keep our heads, now that the word is out that I am a woman."

Lung Hong Dao made a rude noise. "We are not going to stay here when there is fighting to be done."

"But we will be exposed!"

Lung Hong Dao regarded her steadily. "To stay in skirts and rouge when we are needed to fight would be fraud indeed, Hua lung-zi. You are a warrior, as am I. We should not act against our nature out of fear."

"We cannot fight now anyway," MuLan pointed out. "Please, Lung Hong Dao, let us wait and decide what to do when we have healed; there is time enough to think on it before then."

But they were not to be granted the choice. The day she was able to walk from the front door to the garden and back unsupported was the day the Imperial summons came. The Imperial courier delivered the scroll to Father, who came inside with a solemn face.

"Eldest Daughter, the Emperor demands Hua lung-zi and Lung Hong Dao present themselves at the Shining Hall in one week's time."

This time, MuLan left in full daylight, and with a proper farewell to her family, not just a hastily-written note. It should have felt better, but it didn't. Younger Sister cried and embraced her, and Mother sobbed as she filled their travel bags with food and warm clothing. Father's eyes were dry as he held the chair so MuLan could climb painfully aboard Lung Hong Dao, but his hands shook and his face was drawn. MuLan looked back once they were in the air, watching until she could no longer make out her family's figures on the ground, and then turned her face into the wind.

She spent the long flight to the capital thinking about duty and filial piety, reverence and benevolence, and about the true nature of character. MuLan had never been a student of philosophy, and she was sure that there was no rite or parable that applied to her dilemma directly. She would cleave to righteousness as best she could, she resolved; there was nothing more to be done.

The day of their scheduled audience, MuLan and Lung Hong Dao waited outside the ornate doors that led to the Shining Hall. After several hours, MuLan felt as though her leg was on fire, and she was drenched in anxious sweat. Eventually, a eunuch opened the doors and bowed them in. "Lung Hong Dao and Hua Xiao lung-zi approach the throne of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of the Great Tang Dynasty, Son of Heaven, Lord of Ten Thousand Years," an Imperial minister announced in a sonorous voice.

The path to the Emperor's throne was long and covered with a yellow carpet. MuLan watched her own feet, and Lung Hong Dao's claws, and tried to take even steps, even breaths. She looked neither to the left nor to the right, lest she see the people assembled there and lose her nerve. When they reached the dais, she knelt and prostrated herself, gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg and touching her head to the floor. Beside her, she could see Lung Hong Dao performing her own draconic version of the ritual obeisance.

"Hua lung-zi, Lung Hong Dao, you may rise," the Emperor said. As she rose to her feet, MuLan dared to look up. The Son of Heaven sat on his throne in state. He was dwarfed by his heavy ceremonial robes and by the dark bulk of the Celestial dragon who lay behind his throne, but his voice was strong, carrying clearly throughout the room.

"For the bravery you have shown in our service, in particular the most extraordinary bravery you displayed under our brother's command in the north, we wish to reward you both. You may each make one request of us, and we will grant it. A position in our court? A regional governorship? Land? Think carefully and speak of what you would most desire."

MuLan bowed her head respectfully, though her heart thudded wildly in her chest. "Your Imperial Majesty, I have but one request. I desire only to continue in your service."

The Emperor frowned. "But you may have that without Imperial dispensation, Hua lung-zi. Why do you ask for that which you already possess?"

MuLan squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "But I have my position by deception only, Holy Highness, and for myself and the honor of my family, I would have it granted me on merit alone. For I am a woman, and it has been decreed that only men may fight; I ask, therefore, that Your Imperial Majesty should allow women to serve in your army, as I have done, but openly and without shame."

The Emperor rose to his feet, and MuLan quailed. "You are a woman?" he demanded.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a deep rumble from behind the throne. "Of course she is a woman, Tang Huang-di. Anyone can see that." MuLan gaped, and the Celestial went on, dropping his great head back to his forelegs. "But I do not see what difference it makes, when she fights as well as any man; were you not prepared to reward her for her conduct in battle just now?"

Lung Hong Dao spoke up as well, though MuLan could feel her trembling at her own boldness. "The male rabbit may have a tufted tail, and the female longer ears, but when they run side by side, they look the same from the air. Hua lung-zi may have concealed her sex, but she has never concealed her character, nor failed to give due reverence to the Son of Heaven."

The Emperor looked at Lung Hong Dao, and she bowed before his steady gaze. "And you, Lung Hong Dao? Is Hua lung-zi's wish your wish as well?"

Lung Hong Dao looked to the Celestial behind the throne, who watched her with interest, and her scales flushed a deeper red. "This unworthy dragon seeks only to stay with Hua MuLan, and to fight at her side as I have fought with her father and his father before him. It is an honor and a privilege to fight in the service of your Holy Highness, but if I cannot fight with Hua lung-zi, I respectfully do not wish to fight at all."

 

Mei fell silent.

When it became clear that she would not go on, Temeraire said, low, "That is how I feel about Laurence, you know. If I cannot fight with him, I will not pair with anyone. And I do not see why everyone is being so stubborn about it; Emperor Xuanzong was not so foolish, I am sure." He looked uncertain for a moment. "He was not, was he? I am sure he must have granted Hua MuLan and Lung Hong Dao their reward."

"Of course," Mei said. "He could hardly lose face by denying them the wish he had granted them only moments before. But it is not the same as you and Laurence, at all. Hua MuLan was Chinese, and she and Lung Hong Dao stayed always among their own kind. And when Hua MuLan grew old and left the Emperor's service, her sister's daughter took her place, fighting with Lung Hong Dao for many more years. Indeed, Lung Hong Dao herself became somewhat of a legend; she was granted an Imperial breeding for her bravery and loyalty, and she is the revered ancestor of the Scarlet Flower dragons you see today."

Temeraire scraped a claw along the stone floor of the pavilion, meditatively. "I am sure there are no philosophical teachings which would apply directly to my situation, either," he said at last. "I know I am young, and you think that I do not understand, but I too must do what I think is right."

Mei cast her eyes down shyly, and said, "I know you must, Lung Tien Xiang, but if it is not too bold of me, I hope you will stay."