The Dragon's Breath Seed
by Eugie FosterIn the province of Henan in China, a long time ago, there lived a kindhearted baker named Shen. From baskets full of golden eggs, dusty bags of flour, and glittering buckets of sugar, he created masterpieces: moon cakes bursting with sweet bean paste, sticky buns speckled with sesame seeds, and melon rolls so light people swore they had seen them float. Every morning he piled his pastries in a little cart and went out to sell his wares. His customers included rich families celebrating weddings, hungry magistrates, and temple monks. He also baked a towering stack of almond cookies to give to the children who came running into the road, begging for sweets. But his favorite was a pastry he made especially for his daughter, Meihua. It was dusted with shredded coconut and filled with sweet cream, and it always made her eyes shine brighter than a pair of suns.
One evening, when Shen came home with his empty cart, he found Meihua feverish and sick. Her face was ashen, and her eyes were dull and lifeless. He coaxed her to drink some tea and eat a little rice, but she was so weak she fell asleep as he brought the chopsticks to her mouth.
Shen sat by his daughter's side as she tossed on her slender bed, fanning her brow and burning incense.
The next morning, he was relieved to find that Meihua's fever had ebbed, but when she opened her eyes, they were dark as a night without moon or stars. The illness had stolen her sight.
Desperate for a cure, Shen took his daughter to a string of physicians. The first doctor charged him a hundred yuan and gave him a concoction that smelled like fermented goat's milk. It made his daughter break out in red spots, but did not restore her sight. The second demanded two hundred yuan before prescribing a lumpy, gray ointment. It attracted a drove of flies and did not return the light to Meihua’s eyes.
The last doctor asked many questions, squinted into Meihua's face, and frowned.
"She needs a potion brewed from a rare seed called Dragon’s Breath," he declared. "It falls from a scarlet flower with a core that glows bright as flame. It can be found in the forest and blooms tomorrow, but it will not blossom again for another hundred years."
For this advice, the doctor would only accept a single almond cookie for his old mother.
"Wise sir," Shen said. "You are the only physician who has not tried to profit from my misfortune. If I brought your mother a basket of cakes and pastries, might she look after my daughter while I search for this seed?"
"Of course."
That night, Shen baked a heaping tray of cookies dusted with sugar, a bushel of moon cakes, and a mountain of honey-drizzled buns.
When the dawn peered through the window, Shen bundled everything onto his cart. With his daughter clinging to his arm, he journeyed to where the doctor's mother waited.
The old woman's mouth fell open when she saw the bounty Shen had brought.
"When my son said you would bring pastries, I did not think it would be enough to feed the province for a fortnight!"
"She is my only daughter," Shen said. "I would eat nothing but rice and drink only water forever if she might be cured."
After he had ascertained that Meihua was comfortable, he headed out of the province and into the surrounding wilderness. Though Shen scoured the forest, looking for the Dragon’s Breath flower, nothing matched the doctor’s description. The sun sailed across the heavens as he searched.
When he saw the little white beads parading single file before him, he thought his eyes had been dazzled. But then he saw that each bead was an ant larva, carried upon the backs of hurrying, black-shelled adults.
Shen followed the troop of workers and discovered the cause of their efforts. The recent rains had worn away the walls of their nursery, and a channel of water threatened to swamp it.
"Poor things. You are trying to save your children too."
He used a stick to dig a basin for the water to pool into, and hefted a boulder to dam the overflow. When he was done, he wiped his sweating brow and seated himself on the mossy ground.
Shen had spent the whole night baking and the whole day hunting for an elusive flower. Although he had not intended to rest for long, his eyes flickered closed, and he slept.
In his dreams, a phalanx of soldiers, all wearing black lacquer armor, surrounded him. They lifted him onto their shields and brought him to a beautiful woman with gleaming hair that cascaded to the ground. A crown, as glossy and black as the soldiers' armor, adorned her head.
She cradled a young prince in her arms.
"Kind sir," she said, "you saved my children. My people owe you a great debt. Ask what you would have of me."
"There is only one thing I desire," he said, "a seed called Dragon’s Breath."
A pearly tear fell from the queen's eye. "I regret that I do not know where to find this seed. But if you follow the sun, you will find an old temple. The monk who lives there is wise. Perhaps he can help you. If you need us, you only have to call, and I will send my soldiers to you."
Shen bowed, disappointed. When he straightened, he found himself standing in the forest. On a nearby magnolia blossom, a single black ant waved its antennae at him.
Shen turned his feet to where the sun spread its golden arms wide. Before he had gone more than a hundred paces, he came upon a clearing where a temple rested. Sweeping strands of vines - lush and jade green - coated the crumbling walls, giving the structure the appearance of a hairy old man sitting in the dirt. A ramshackle garden bordered the temple, guarded by a sloping wall.
A flash of color caught his eye. A tiny snake hurried to the temple steps. It was a brilliant emerald green, spotted at head and tail with flourishes of gold and crimson. In a flurry of wings, a black hawk swooped down, its talons bared to strike. Without thinking, Shen leaped forward, waving his arms and shouting. At his antics, the hawk veered away.
He shook his fist at the hawk. "For shame to prey on a creature seeking sanctuary!" In case the hawk should return, Shen stood guard over the snake as it slithered up the temple steps.
Within, dust lay in a blanket across the altar, and the smell of dank, growing things clung heavy in the air. It did not seem that any monks had meditated here in a long while.
Still, it was a holy place - a place to pray. Shen knelt before the decrepit altar and folded his hands.
As soon as he closed his eyes, he heard a clash of cymbals and the plinking of a zither. His eyes snapped open. Around him, the temple had transformed. Where the walls had been bare and stained with moisture, elegant tapestries hung. The air was lit by a hundred candles and perfumed by incense.
A footstep brought him spinning around.
A young monk stood behind him. His head was shaved and glowed golden, as though painted with gilt. His robes were a verdant green, woven of the finest silk. When he stepped forward, Shen saw his shoes were a brilliant crimson.
The monk bowed. "You saved me from death. Ask for anything, and if I can provide it, it is yours."
Shen set aside his astonishment. "I am looking for a rare seed that will restore my daughter’s sight."
"Ah, yes," the monk said. "My cousin breathed on a flower, and forever after, its seeds have held great healing properties, although it blossoms but once a century."
"That is it!"
"I know where you may find it, but you must be fleet. It is imperative that you pluck the seed from the flower's heart before the sun sets, or it will fall to the ground, lost among the thousands of pebbles that litter the soil. Travel upriver until you find a boulder shaped like a lion. The flower grows between a rose with thorns as keen as grief and an orchid with petals as sharp as worry."
"Thank you!" Shen bowed. When he looked up, the tapestries, music, and incense were gone. The tiny snake from the garden weaved before him, dipping its head in homage.
Shen hurried out. Already the sun slanted in the sky, its rays thickening in the cooling forest breezes. He found the river by its burbling song and raced upstream, searching for the lion-boulder the snake-monk had spoken of.
In the deepening shadows, a ferocious beast lunged at him, its mouth wide. Its teeth were as long as Shen's thumb, and craggy ridges shadowed its eyes. Shen fell back. As his heart slowed from its frantic gallop, he realized the beast was one of stone, not flesh. He glanced about, looking for the rose and orchid. The ground was littered with tiny rocks, like a field of opalescent sand dotted with gemstones.
Great boulders jutted from beneath the lion’s shoulders. Nestled between the crannies of those rock paws, a tangle of flowers bloomed. Yellow roses, their petals bright as topaz, waved their heads. Surrounding them, like a brigade of soldiers, were menacing thorns. Beside these roses, white orchids swelled, their centers shaped like nesting doves. Their petals were thin as paper and twice as sharp.
In the center of the tangle of roses and orchids, a red flower spread itself to the sky. Tendrils of gold shot through the coppery petals, so they seemed to blaze in the gentle breeze. They framed a seed bright as a candle flame sheathed in scarlet.
Shen edged his way into the flowerbed, but when he got close to the Dragon’s Breath flower, a rose thorn opened a bleeding gash along his outstretched arm. He tried again, but an orchid petal sliced his grasping fingers. And worse, when he pulled back, he jostled the assortment of blossoms. The Dragon's Breath flower loosed its single seed. Shen watched helplessly as it plunged, bouncing and tumbling, to the multi-hued earth.
He fell to his knees and sifted handfuls of pebbles through his fingers. The seed was gone. How could he find it amongst all the colorful stones? Would his daughter have to walk in darkness because he had failed?
He felt his heart grow leaden with despair. Suddenly, a black grain of sand startled him by sprouting six legs and scuttling away.
Shen remembered the queen’s promise.
"Your Majesty Ant!" he shouted. "I could use your assistance, please!"
As the eye of the sun dimmed beneath the horizon, Shen heard rustling at his feet, as though a tiny vanguard marched through the underbrush.
"I am looking for a special seed," he called. "It is red with a yellow spot in the middle, and it glows like a flame. Please, friends, find it for me."
The moon grew to fullness over Shen's head. He squinted into the darkness as the stars danced their stately progress across the sky. When the eastern horizon shone silver, it revealed a single ant before him. It stood on a bright red seed with a yellow core.
"Oh, thank you!" Shen exclaimed.
The ant waved tiny forelegs in salutation and bustled away.
Shen clutched the seed in his hand as he rushed back to Henan. When he arrived at the doctor's house, he found Meihua sharing a moon cake with the old woman. The doctor peeked out from around a plate heaped high with pastries.
"You found it?"
Shen showed the seed to the doctor as the old woman filled a kettle with water. When tendrils of steam curled from the stove, the doctor poured the water into a cup. Shen dropped in the Dragon's Breath seed and immediately, a delicious aroma, wild as a lion's mane and bright as hope, permeated the tiny house.
As soon as Meihua sipped the tea, her eyes grew clear. She smiled into her father's face and gazed about in wonder.
Shen wiped away the tears of joy that flowed over his cheeks. He hugged his daughter, the doctor, and the old woman.
"I will bring you almond cookies and cream cakes every day," he promised them.
But the first thing Shen baked when he got home was a pastry dusted with shredded coconut and filled with sweet cream. And as she ate them, Meihua's eyes shone brighter than a pair of suns.
Eugie Foster calls home a mildly-haunted, fey-infested house in Metro Atlanta that she shares with her husband, Matthew, and her pet skunk, Hobkin. She is an active member of the SFWA, winner of the Phobos Award, and Managing Editor of Tangent (tangentonline.com). Her fiction has been translated into Greek, Hungarian, Polish, and French, and has been nominated for the British Fantasy, Southeastern Science Fiction, and Pushcart Awards. Her publication credits include stories in Realms of Fantasy, The Third Alternative, Paradox, Cricket, Fantasy Magazine, Cicada, and anthologies Hitting the Skids in Pixeltown, edited by Orson Scott Card; Heroes in Training, edited by Jim C. Hines and Martin H. Greenberg (DAW Books, forthcoming); and Best New Fantasy: 2005, edited by Sean Wallace. Visit her online at eugiefoster.com.